


Drabblicity 3

by ijustliketowatch



Series: As Many Drabbles as Arrows in a Quiver [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, filled with my typical sense of humor and perpetual horny edge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 21,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2208183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijustliketowatch/pseuds/ijustliketowatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles starring everyone's favorite IT Girl Felicity Smoak and all her favorite vigilantes. Collected for Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Innuendo

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Marc Guggenheim's tweets teasing dialogue from the first issue of the Arrow Season 2.5 digital comic.

"You need to be in my bed," Felicity commands. Her forceful demeanor crumbles a moment later when she realizes the unsavory interpretation her words could have.

It used to make Oliver smile, her accidental innuendos. But for the last few weeks, it's made him cringe almost as much as it makes her. Not because he's embarrassed for her, but because of the vivid mental pictures that always accompany them now.

He sees her lounging in bed, barely covered by flowing white sheets, hair sprawled out around her head on fluffy pillows. She looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and says, "you need to be in my bed," but this time, there's nothing accidental about the innuendo. And just as he begins to imagine what it would be like to comply, to pull those sheets back and climb in next to her, her awkwardness saves him from himself.

"I mean, because you're injured and you need rest," she adds, her face flushed a deep red. Oliver clenches his fists at his sides and gives her a tight smile.

"I'll be fine on the couch," he says firmly, though he really would like to sleep in a bed. But he learned his lesson after the last time she forced him to switch. Spending another night wrapped in sheets that smelled like her, the maddening scent lingering in his nostrils for days after, would be torture. "I'm so exhausted, I could sleep anywhere," he assures her, gently laying his hand on her shoulder. Felicity frowns at him a moment, deciding if she's going to argue, and then sighs.

"Alright," she agrees begrudgingly. "If you're sure."

"I'll be fine. Goodnight, Felicity."

"Goodnight, Oliver," she replies and then turns away. He watches her go, pushing back other visions caused by the sway of her hips as she climbs the stairs, and almost gets caught when she reaches the top and looks back at him. She's surprised to find him still standing there and she smiles nervously, adorably. Oliver smiles back and feels an acute sense of loss when she disappears into her bedroom and from his sight.

"Christ, I've got to find my own place," he mutters to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and please leave some feedback. I'm sure I'll be writing more of these as the season progresses and we learn more.


	2. Memory Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a prompt from narelclollie on ff.net who wanted a story in which Oliver loses his memory but is still drawn to Felicity.

When Oliver first wakes up, he doesn't remember any of it. The fights, the deaths, the wins, the losses—she has to tell him everything later.

So, when he find himself in some sort of warehouse basement he doesn't recognize, surrounded by people he doesn't know, he doesn't react well. He flies off the metal table he was laying on and gets into a defensive crouch, knocking some boy in a red leather getup to the ground in the process.

"Whoa, watch it man," the kid says, standing up. "You weren't the only one who got—" he's stopped from whatever he was going to say by Oliver's fist connecting with his face, knocking him out cold.

"Oliver!" a blonde girl yelps, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Where am I?" he demands. "How do you know who I am?" The girl drops her hands, blinking in surprise a moment and then glances at the other man in the room, a tall black man Oliver suspects will be far more difficult to take out than the girl.

"You're in the foundry at Verdant, Oliver," the girl says slowly, putting her hands up as if to show she doesn't mean him any harm. "I'm Felicity Smoak, that's John Diggle and the guy you just put on the floor is Roy Harper," she explains, pointing to each in turn. "We're your partners. You don't remember us?"

"No," he replies, eyeing her and trying to decide if this is a trick of some kind. "The last things I remember is taking a boat off Lian Yu and getting on a plane to Starling City," he says, straightening up a bit but still ready to spring into action if need be. "Is that where we are? They said they would take me to the hospital when we landed and my mother would be there. Is she here?" The girl's eyes are wide and she swallows tightly before she speaks again.

"She's not here," she says and he notices a strange edge to her voice. "Oliver, I know this is going to sound crazy," she starts and takes a step toward him. Oliver tenses again and she freezes, surprised by the reaction, and then moves back. She gives him a sympathetic look and takes a deep breath before she speaks again.

"You've been back in Starling City for almost 3 years. We're currently in the basement of one of QC's old foundries. We," she pauses, pointing between them and the two other men in the room, "work together here to protect Starling City. John was your bodyguard before you had to tell him your secret. When you were first crossing names off your father's list." Oliver's surprised to hear she knows about that. It certainly gives what she's saying more credibility, but they could have tortured that out of him. "He used to provide back-up, but you haven't let him back in the field since Lyla, his...ex-wife?" She glances at this "John" seemingly for confirmation and he shrugs. She nods and continues with, "had the baby. I joined you guys a few months later, when your moth—when you were injured and came to me for help. Though I probably would have figured out you were the Hood eventually. For a guy who keeps so much secret, you are a terrible liar. There was this one time when you brought me these syringes—"

"Felicity," the other man interrupts, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Right," she says and nods. "Roy is your backup in the field. He's not as good as you with a bow, but he's pretty handy with most weapons. Which I think is the reason the news started calling him Arsenal, which I still think is a really weird nickname, honestly. It's not like you guys are using weapons with much firepower."

"That's all very interesting," Oliver interrupts, only partly sarcastic. The girl's rather charming rambling was a little too disarming. He'd relaxed his guard and failed to notice the other man putting himself between Oliver and the nearby weaponry until it was too late. "But how do I know any of what you're saying is true? I know what manipulation looks like. I need proof."

"Whatever you want," she replies, sounding slightly relieved.

"I want to see my mother," he says. "If she tells me I've been back in Starling City as long as you say, maybe I'll believe everything else."

"I can't do that," she says, looking stricken.

"Those are my terms," he replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The girl sighs and gives him a pained look.

"I wish I could, Oliver—"

"Nice try," he interrupts. "You tell Waller or whoever you're working for that this is a waste of time. I won't work for her again no matter what she threatens to do." The girl looks questioningly at the other man and he nods, expression grim.

"Maybe it will jog his memory," he says and then Oliver notices him reposition himself slightly closer to her, this Felicity.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but," she pauses, seeming to blink back tears, "your mother is dead."

"No," he growls, fists clenching at his sides. "That's not true. You're making excuses."

"I promise you I'm not," she says, pleading for him to believe her. "Slade killed her when—"

"You're lying!" he yells, flipping the metal table he was laying on earlier. "That's impossible. He's dead. How do you even know that name?" he demands. He lunges at her and she screams and just manages to move out of the way before he grabs her. Oliver tries again, but he's suddenly hit from the side as the other man tackles him to the ground.

He's strong and clearly has training, but Oliver is angry and he's just starting to gain the upper hand when he feels a sharp pain in his arm. He looks down to find the blonde emptying the contents of a syringe into his bloodstream.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," she says. And as his mind grows sluggish, he wonders if she might really be telling the truth. There's too much familiarity in the way she says his name and in the way she runs her hand comfortingly over his head as the world goes dark.

* * *

 

Oliver wakes on the same table as before—except this time he's strapped securely to its surface. It's a good thing too because the more he hears about his alleged life since returning to Starling City, the angrier he becomes. Felicity tells him about Tommy's death and Malcolm Merlyn's corruption of Thea, of losing control of QC and Slade's return. She even tells him some crazy story about Sara surviving to become an assassin. She sounds totally sincere, but he refuses to believe it. As surprisingly detailed as the information this girl and the two other men know about him is, he can't entertain the thought that it's all really true. If he's really been trying to save Starling City for this long and things are still this bad, then what was the point of it all?

Eventually, Felicity makes a hushed, urgent phone call, begging someone to come and see him. He waits, wondering who will walk through the door until Sara finally appears–like something out of the dreams he's had a million times since he last saw her–and Oliver can't deny the truth anymore.

He can barely endure the crushing loss he feels, the loneliness. And then a small hand wraps around his and he looks down to see Felicity gripping it in both of hers, looking at him as if she wants nothing more than to take all that pain away. She looks unsure when she sees him staring and starts to pull away, but he grips her hand tightly in his. He needs to grip onto something good, this friendship built up between them, even if he can't remember it.

Though he comes to wonder if that's all there is between them as time goes on. They're close in a way he doesn't seem to be with anyone else. Like the way she's always touching him. He's not even sure she realizes she's doing it. She'll squeeze his arm as she says goodnight or reach for him when he's injured or even nudge him playfully when she's making a joke. It unnerves him at first, this intimacy, but he starts to crave it—leaning into it instead of flinching away. It's like a simple comfort in the constant confusion his life has become. It's almost as comforting as the way she's constantly saying his name. Never Ollie–the nickname people have always preferred–but Oliver, each syllable rolling off her tongue like it's the most familiar word in the world to her. And he's constantly saying her name too. He doesn't know how it starts, maybe it's in response to her doing it. Whatever the case, he comes to like the sound of it and the way she looks every time he says it.

Memories come back to him in bits and pieces: fighting Slade, what happened between him and Laurel, how much he didn't like Roy dating his sister, even how he met Felicity. But it's still a struggle to run QC or remember he doesn't kill anymore or that he's supposed to trust Diggle and Roy. The only thing that makes it easier is Felicity, guiding him every step of the way and covering for the gaps in his memory. She's tireless in her willingness to help him and he can't understand why.

The two of them are working late at QC one night when he finally decides to get clarification. Oliver is sitting with his shoes up on his desk and Felicity is sitting across from him as they go over information he should already know for a shareholder meeting the next day. Though he's paying as much attention as he should. He's too busy watching her work, enjoying the intense way she stares at her laptop.

"Did you and I ever date?" Oliver asks.

"What?" she asks, looking comically alarmed.

"Did we ever date?" he repeats, sitting up and leaning toward her across the desk. "There's something...different between us. I'm just wondering why that is." Felicity sighs and frowns, sizing him up a moment before answering.

"There was one date," she says softly, eyes darting away.

"Why only one?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Because it was a disaster," she says and he can hear something sad in her voice. "There was an explosion and I got hurt. So you decided that," she pauses and looks back at him, "that being the Arrow meant you would never be safe enough to live a normal life as Oliver Queen. You refused to put me in danger," she finishes and clenches her jaw, giving him a hard look unlike anything he remembers seeing from her before.

"Hmm," he hums in response, sitting back in his chair. That certainly sounds like something he would say. "Makes sense," he adds.

Felicity looks at him a moment longer, as if she wants to say something more, but she turns back to her laptop without another word.

"Did I at least get to kiss you goodnight?" he asks after a moment.

"Oliver!" she exclaims and blushes.

"What?" he asks with a smirk. "I may have forgotten some things, but I still know what kind of guy I am," he jokes. It at least manages to get a sly smile and an admonishing head shake from her.

"No, but we did kiss," she admits and he feels a thrill at the way she says it. "Not during the date though. It was before. We were at the hospital when Lyla went into labor and you just reached out and..." She looks up at him shyly and he can't help but smile a little smugly.

"I wish I remembered it," he says and he really does. She bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile and then pointedly returns her full attention to her computer.

The conversation ends there, but Oliver doesn't stop thinking about it. In fact, Felicity and why he chose to keep away from her before start to take up more and more of his thoughts.

One one hand, she's really not any safer now. She's in danger as long as she works with the Arrow and he knows he'll never convince her to stop doing that. Nothing could make him forget how stubborn she is. He could try to push her away–be cruel, have her fired from QC, never let her into Verdant again–but he's not sure that would work either. She would see right through effort on his part to make her hate him. From what she's told him and the little he remembers, he's never been good at lying to her.

And he wouldn't want to push Felicity away anyway. He may not remember how she became such a big part of his life, but he can see the results. She's too involved in every facet—especially now. She is the only thing he's been sure of since he lost his memory, he can't imagine how he would feel without her.

Which is also why Oliver doesn't try to change their relationship. Felicity may have wanted to date him all those months ago, but her feelings could have changed since then. And his could change again too. He could wake up some morning with all of his memories back and understand why he wanted to keep away from her in the first place, breaking her heart all over again. The thought keeps him awake at night almost as much as his nightmares.

The indecision is maddening and confusing and he wonders if it was this bad before he lost his memory. He gets confirmation that it was even worse when he watches Ray Palmer flirt with her one day and suddenly regains the memory of what it was like when Barry Allen first came to town.

Oliver realizes then that trying to keep away from her is useless. HIs feelings for her are inescapable. He will always arrive back at Felicity no matter how hard he tries.


	3. Diner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The need to write has been inescapable lately. Based no the following prompt by otpprompts on Tumblr: Imagine your OTP meeting at a restaurant after Person A gets stood up by their date and ends up eating alone. Person B can be either a waiter at the restaurant or another person eating there.
> 
> And forgive Oliver for being a bit of a pig. This is him without the island after all.

Well, that's it then. Their relationship is over.

Oliver had told Laurel to meet him at 8 if she still wanted to be with him. It's now 10 and there's been no sign of her, not even a text.

He can't say he's surprised. It's tough to forgive a guy who cheats on you with your own sister—something she had made abundantly clear to him. But he had still held out hope. He promised he would change and he really meant it this time.

He's suddenly distracted from his moping by the sound of a plate sliding toward him over the counter. He looks down to find a piece of banana cream pie (his favorite and the reason he keeps coming to this crappy diner in the worst part of Starling City) sitting in front of him.

"I didn't order this," he says, giving the pretty blonde waitress a confused look.

"It's on me," she says sympathetically. "Being stood up is the worst."

"How did you—?"

"I doubt you've been sitting her for the last two hours staring at the door and drinking enough coffee to give you an ulcer just for fun," she explains.

"Right," he sighs, slumping over and resting his chin in his hand. "Thanks," he adds as he spears he pie with his fork.

"Nothing a slice of your favorite pie can't fix," she says encouragingly as she refills his coffee cup and then sets the pot down.

"How did you know it's my favorite," he pauses to look down at her name tag and adds, "Felicity?" She blushes and self-consciously pushes her black-rimmed glasses up her nose before answering.

"You're pretty much our only regular customer," she says casually. "Well, except that crazy guy we've had to call the police on a couple of times and the creepy guy who comes in here to stare at the waitresses." She shuts her eyes and shivers and despite his mood, Oliver finds it sort of adorable.

"What's a girl like you even doing working in a dump like this?" he asks, taking a bite of his pie and already feeling better because of it.

"Hey, it's not that bad," she says defensively. Oliver raises an eyebrow at her in response. "OK, it's not an ideal place to work," she admits, "but it pays the bills. I'm paying my way through college."

"Oh yeah? What's your major?"

"Computer science."

"Really?" he says, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth he's so surprised. "You don't seem like the type." She scowls and fixes him with a withering stare.

"And what type do I seem like?" she asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. He chuckles and then squints at her, play-acting sizing her up.

"Hmm, secretarial arts? No, library sciences?" he jokes and she scoffs, playfully punching him in the arm. "What? You've got the sexy librarian look down with the glasses and the ponytail and the pen in your hair." He stands up a bit on the stool to look at her clothes and then adds, "need a shorter skirt though."

"My skirt is just fine, thank you very much," Felicity says, pushing him hard enough that he falls back into his seat, but her face is flushed a flattering shade of red. "I'd think you of all people wouldn't put too much stock in appearances, Oliver 'Incorrigible Heir to a Multi-Billion Dollar Corporation' Queen." His mouth drops open in shock and she gives him a wicked smile.

"You know, you really shouldn't believe everything you read in the tabloids," he says with mock haughtiness. "It's mostly lies anyway."

"Oh, I know for a fact some of it's true," she replies.

"Oh really?" he asks, intrigued.

"Yup, I got a front row seat to your antics last year at Starling U."

"Ah, my favorite school to be expelled from," Oliver says, spreading his arms wide before setting his elbows on the counter and leaning forward.

"I was at that party," Felicity says conspiratorially, leaning down to mirror his pose.

"Right, wet t-shirt contestant #4," he jokes. "Slutty pirate?"

"No," she snaps and gives him a stern look that's made less imposing by her smile. "I was an unsexy zombie for your information. And I left before that started. Right around the time you started jumping off the roof into the pool."

"You should have joined," he suggest.

"I'm afraid of heights," she replies, biting her bottom lip as she smiles and suddenly making Oliver notice the bright pink lipstick covering them. Maybe it's because he's never been this close to her–they're both leaning pretty far over the counter– but he's not sure how he's never noticed this girl before.

"You're too beautiful to sit behind a computer all day," he mutters.

"And you're too handsome for your own good," she replies.

The moment is broken by the sound of the diner door opening and they both turn toward the sound. They both sigh in disappointment when they see a man standing there and Oliver wonders why Felicity would be unhappy to see this guy when the man in question leers at her.

"Coffee, sweetheart," the guy says loudly. "Black," he adds as he sits at the opposite end of the counter.

"Creepy guy?" Oliver asks lowly. Felicity scowls in response and then turns to grab the coffee pot. "Want me to take care of him for you?" he adds.

"I can handle myself, thank you," she says sarcastically and walks away. Oliver has no doubt. Though he'll stick around anyway, if only to find out what time her shift ends.


	4. Late Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, I don’t know what’s going on lately, but I’ve been on a serious Olicity drabble kick.
> 
> Set after they’re together sometime in the future and Oliver comes home after a trip of some kind.

Felicity had wanted to meet him at the airport, but Oliver had absolved her of the obligation. Not that he didn't want to see her—he'd spent the whole of his brief trip missing her. But his flight landed at 2am and he knows how miserable she always is when she has to put in a full work day on too little sleep.

Still, he's surprised she doesn't show up anyway. He has never known Felicity to follow anything that sounds remotely like an order, but perhaps even she could admit sleep was the better option.

Oliver opens the door to find that she left the light in the foyer on for him. He flicks it off expecting to be plunged into total darkness but is surprised to see the slightest illumination coming from their bedroom. He picks up his suitcase, hauls it up the stairs and walks quietly into the room. He suspects he'll find Felicity waiting up for him, but finds her fast asleep instead.

She's lit by the bedside lamp and sitting propped up on pillows against the headboard. Her glasses are askew and her hands are still lightly wrapped around the tablet laying in her lap, like she fell asleep while reading. Oliver smiles, gently sets his bags down and then tiptoes across the room. He stands beside the bed a moment, enjoying how cute she looks slumped over from exhaustion, before he leans down to wake her up—though not by trying to take the tablet out of her hands.

He made that mistake once and she jolted awake so fast she almost gave both of them heart attacks. Even when unconscious Felicity is acutely aware of her tech. Rather, he takes her chin in his hand so he can turn her face and gently press his lips to hers. He hears her inhale deeply as she wakes up and then feels her hands come up and grab the material of his shirt.

"Mmm, that was a nice way to wake up," she says sleepily when he pulls away. "But I'm sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to stay awake until you got home," she adds with a pout.

"It's OK," he says softly, running a hand through her hair.

"I missed you," she sighs, repositioning herself in the bed to get more comfortable.

"I missed you too," he replies, plucks the glasses off her nose and then sets them on the bedside table.

"Come to bed," she mumbles, already falling asleep again.

"OK," he says, flicking off the light.


	5. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta stop following so many blogs that give prompts on Tumblr. I don't remember where I saw the idea for a Florist AU and didn't save the post because I didn't think I'd write anything, but here we are. And I'll link to pics of the flower types so you know what I'm talking about.

Oliver always tries to guess the eventual purchases of his customers—a holdover from when his mother used to bring him with her when he was a child and needed to find a way to keep him from getting restless. It's a habit rather than a distraction now.

So, the first time she walks in, he takes in the prim ponytail, glasses and playful pastel color of her skirt and thinks, "[lemon geranium](http://www.xn--kruterey-1za.com/WebRoot/Store14/Shops/17151729/4973/8FF9/9A16/257B/A106/C0A8/2936/3147/Duftgeranie_0020_Lemon-Fancy_006.JPG), of course," only to be surprised when she picks a handful of the horribly-named but still-lovely [rainbow sorbet roses](http://www.beautifulflowerpictures.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/2013_06_rose_rainbow_sorbet_9359.jpg). Though when she brings them to the counter, he realizes that was the obvious choice. There's something reminiscent of them in the prettiness of her blonde hair and bright pink lipstick.

When she comes in again a week later, she surprises him twice. First, because he doesn't have many repeat customers, making most of his profits on men buying apology flowers or last-minute gifts for important occasions they've belatedly remembered. Second, because instead of going straight for the roses like last time, she picks [violets](http://www.statesymbolsusa.org/IMAGES/Wisconsin/wood-violets.jpg) instead. He understands why when she comes to the counter to pay and notices that they match the polish on her fingernails.

He doesn't even bother to guess when she comes in again. She chooses [hibiscus](http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/nikolpetr/nikolpetr1107/nikolpetr110700031/9956507-red-hibiscus-flower.jpg), in a shade of red only slightly less pleasing than that of the dress she's wearing. He assumes that since she has come in at the same time every Monday to purchase a single bouquet that this might become a habit. So, Oliver decides it's time to get to know the mysterious girl who seems determined to match her purchases to her attire.

"Either you're the best girlfriend in the world or you did something pretty bad if you've got to give her flowers every week," he jokes when she hands them to him.

"What?" she starts, confused a moment before she understands. "Oh no, I don't have a girlfriend," she says with a laugh and blushes. "Despite those rumors about Sara and I in college," she mutters to herself before addressing him again. "No, these are for me. I like to have a little color on my desk at work since my office is so blah."

"Ah," Oliver replies with a nod, feeling a twinge of excitement that she's at least on his team even if he doesn't know if she's available. "What do you do?" he asks conversationally as he wraps the bouquet.

"I'm in IT at Merlyn Global," she says proudly. "I love the job, but sometimes I need a reminder that there's nature outside of my computer screen."

"Well, I'm glad you chose Queen Florists to buy your reminders," he says and gives her the wide, charming grin he knows works on most women.

"Of course," she replies and gives him a dazzling smile that nearly knocks him off balance. "It's beautiful in here," she says, gesturing to the shop around them. "You've got the best selection in the neighborhood if not the city. How long have you worked here?"

"My whole life, really," he says. "My mother opened it and I took it over when she retired. My sister was pretty happy about that. Thea never grew out of the 'flowers are so boring' phase."

"Her loss," she replies and then hands him cash for her purchase. "What made you grow out of that?"

"I was kind of a wild kid," Oliver says, smiling at partial memories of debauched nights. "My Dad gave me an ultimatum when I got thrown out of college: either I start working in one of the family businesses or they cut me off. Flowers seemed like an easier living than law, plus girls seemed into it, so I chose this," he adds with a shrug and she gives him a smirk. "But I ended up liking it," he admits and turns to gently runs his finger over the frilly petals of a nearby buckbean. "Flowers are simple even if they seem complex. They're all unique in their exact needs, but the essentials are the same: water, light, space to grow. And they make people happy in a way that nothing else does. They're one of the few things that exist simply because they're beautiful." He turns back to find her staring at him with half-lidded eyes and her lips parted. He tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow questioningly and she seems to snap back to attention, clearing her throat and shuffling nervously.

"So true," she says a little breathily.

"'Til next week?" he confirms, holding out her change and the bouquet.

"'Til next week," she agrees and turns to go.

Oliver is looking forward to seeing her the next Monday but is surprised when she walks in without her usual look of untroubled contentment. Instead, she's holding her cellphone to her ear and looking decidedly unhappy about what the person on the other end is saying.

"No, Mom, I'm not," she says angrily. "Why is that always the first thing you ask me? My job is going really well, if you'd care to know." She pauses as she listens and the furrow in her brow deepens. "Yes, I am sticking with this 'whole computer thing'" she says acidly, her free hand making air quotes. She reaches out and roughly grabs a pre-bundled bouquet heavily featuring [scotch thistle](http://www.idahoweedawareness.net/vfg/weedlist/scotchthisle/media/DSC_4989.jpg), listens a moment and then seems to interrupt her mother mid-sentence, almost yelling to get her attention. "Mom, Mom! I have to go. I need to get to work."

She hangs up with a frustrated sigh, slams the flowers down on the counter and then rubs her eyes.

"Everything OK?" Oliver asks as he begins to wrap the flowers. Her hand slides down so she can seem him over her fingers and her shoulders slump.

"My mother," she says, her tone making it sound like a sentence. "She doesn't seem to understand that leaving Vegas for MIT and then coming to Starling City wasn't all just some elaborate plan to find a husband. God forbid I think my life has meaning even if I'm not dating anyone right now." She throws her hands in the air and then looks up at him. She grows embarrassed and then speaks again, this time more timidly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to rant at you. Two people don't need to have their days ruined because of my mother. How much do I owe you?"

"They're on me today," he says and holds out the bouquet.

"Really?" she asks, smiling for the first time since she walked in.

"Absolutely," he says firmly. "Think of it as my attempt to salvage your day."

"Thanks," she says bashfully. "What's your name, by the way? I never asked."

"Oliver," he says and sticks out his hand.

"Felicity," she replies.

"Beautiful," he comments and feels a little proud when she blushes and bites her bottom lip to hold back a smile. She pulls her hand away without another word, grabs the bouquet and leaves.

Oliver starts preparing for the next week immediately.

He spends a few days trying to think of the right flower and finally settles on orchids. Cliché as they are, he's always loved them–their delicacy, their difficulty–it's all worth the reward of how singularly beautiful they are. He picks orange [epidendrums](http://www.orchidsplus.com/images/epidendrum_orchid.jpg) at first and then decides he wants something with fuller petals and softer coloring. He considers the [phalaenopsis](https://www.orchidweb.com/images/phalaenopsis_orchid_plant.jpg) family for half a second before dismissing those as too sterile and nearly jumps in the air when he realizes the only real choice is cymbidium. At first he picks a [light green](http://www.wallpapershed.com/images/9373-green-cymbidium-orchid-picture-photo-1071-image-size-800-x-600.jpg) variety, because that's his favorite color and then realizes she would probably like a [pink](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c1/Cymbidium_Clarisse_Austin_'Best_Pink'_Flowers_2000px.JPG) or yellow more. He finally settles on the former because something about the soft pink petals, yellow throat and dark pink, almost red lips seems to fit her. He replants the stalk in a pot and doesn't trim the leaves back too much, liking the way the blooms contrast with the green.

The flowers are waiting and hidden behind the counter for her on Monday morning. Oliver doesn't even give her a chance to browse before drawing her attention the minute she walks in.

"Felicity," he says excitedly, beckoning her over. "I have something for you." Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then she tilts her head, giving him an intrigued look. She walks over and he takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing.

"I know you like getting fresh-cut flowers ever week and I certainly don't want this to stop you from coming in, but I thought you might like something a little more permanent." He lifts up the pot and places it on the counter, gauging her reaction. Her mouth drops open in surprise and she reaches up to feel the flowers' waxy petals.

"They're beautiful," she mutters dreamily and Oliver sighs in relief. "But aren't orchids really hard to take care of?" she asks, coming back to the moment. "I'd have to buy a book well, Google them probably, or—"

"Or I can tell you how to take care of them," Oliver cuts in, "maybe over dinner sometime this week?" She blinks at him a moment, mouth open in surprise, and then her cheeks flush as she realizes what he's asking.

"OK," she says softly, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Great," he says and grins. "You free Wednesday?"

"Wednesday's perfect," she agrees.


	6. Trick Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt by flauermari on Tumblr: "i would love a scene like the one in batman the dark night in which the joker pushes rachel off the building and batman jumps after her ,i want something like that for oliver and felicity."

Oliver manages to fire the arrow straight into the bastard's chest, but it doesn't stop him from dropping Felicity off the edge of the building. His feet are in motion even before he hears her scream out his name and he goes flying off the edge after her without hesitation.

He reaches back and grabs an arrow, hoping his meticulous quiver arranging pays off because he won't have chance to fire another before they hit the ground. He takes as careful aim as he can in free-fall and releases the bow string. The arrow comes close to her, missing her my mere centimeters and flies past her toward the ground.

There's no time to see if it works because a moment later he catches up to her–the push off the side of the building when he first jumped giving him that extra momentum–and they wrap their arms around each other.

He manages to turn them so he takes the brunt of the impact and is glad to hit something soft and pillowy instead of concrete. Felicity lands on top of him, knocking the wind out of him and they bounce once before coming to rest.

"Oliver, Oliver, are you OK?" she asks, pushing up off of him to look into his face, her glasses lost sometime during the fall.

"I'm fine," he grinds out. She relaxes and rolls the rest of the way off him, rocking the giant cushion beneath them.

"I told you the 'airbag arrow' was a good idea," she says smugly.

He only sighs in response. He'll never hear the end of it now.


	7. Flash-Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt by an Anon on Tumblr: "pre island Oliver seeing future Oliver with Felicity (kudos if you can include Moira, Tommy, Laurel or Thea from pre island)"

"What the fuck did we take last night?" Oliver groans, shutting his eyes in hopes the world will have stopped spinning by the time he opens them again.

"I don't know," Tommy replies, voice muffled because he's got his head buried in his arms where they're crossed on top of the table. He raises his head, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and grimaces. "But remind me never to take it again."

"Here you go, boys," the waitress says, setting down a coffee in front of each.

"You're a saint," Tommy tells her, sliding off his glasses so he can better see the cream he's adding to the cup. He picks up a sugar packet and shakes it in his hand when the movement suddenly slows. Oliver looks up to find him squinting into the distance behind him, mouth hanging open.

"What?" he asks.

"Am I still high or are you standing over there?" he asks, pointing. Oliver turns to see what he's talking about and is shocked to find a man standing at the counter who could be his mirror image. Well, except this guy looks like kind of a dick as he stands rigidly straight, fingers working impatiently and a frown on his face that looks like it's taken permanent residence there. His hair is close-cropped and Oliver wouldn't be caught dead wearing a suit first thing in the morning unless he were leaving the house of a girl he met the night before.

"He looks nothing like me," Oliver says and turns back around, disliking the idea that he could turn into some uptight businessman like his father.

"Are you kidding me?" Tommy asks, giving him an incredulous look. "He looks exactly like you."

"Bullshit," Oliver says, waving his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, he looks like you 10 years from now," Tommy goes on. "Like you after Laurel finally cuts off your balls and forces you to 'get serious about your life,'" he says, mocking the lecture she gave Oliver before she stormed out of the party.

"Well, then he's definitely not me," Oliver replies, not appreciating the reminder that he and Laurel are on yet another break. "I'm never going to be able to convince her to take me back this time." The sharp ring of the bell above the door intensifies Oliver's splitting headache and he's about to take another restorative sip of coffee when Tommy whacks his arm, making it splash out of the mug onto his hand.

"Ow, damn it, what the hell?" he asks angrily.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he replies, pointing to the man again.

Oliver turns around just in time to see a pretty blonde with nice legs and glasses lean up to kiss his doppelgänger. The man smiles down at her when they separate and grabs a bag of food before walking out hand-in-hand with the girl, staring at her like he is thoroughly whipped.

"Good for you, man, she's hot," Tommy says with a smirk, hitting his arm again and making Oliver spill more of his coffee.

"Damn it," Oliver snarls, grabs a handful of sugar packet and then hurls them in Tommy's face.

"Hey," he says defensively and then picks up some sugar packets of his own. They spend the next few moments exchanging volleys until the exertion gives them both mind-numbing waves of nausea.

"Ugh," Oliver groans, head in his hands. "We have got to lay off the drugs from now on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got two more drabbles coming in the next 24 hours so I apologize now for spamming the inboxes of those following this collection.


	8. Concussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "could you do a prompt where felicity is injured, maybe has a concussion and she isn't allowed to sleep so oliver has to keep her up?"

This is exactly why she stays in the lair.

Felicity is beyond exhausted, but she can't do the one thing she wants to do: sleep. Stupid concussion, stupid criminals. Why can't they go to Central City and bother Barry? She yawns and leans her head onto the back of her living room couch, closing her eyes a moment.

"Hey, sit up," Oliver admonishes, jostling her slightly.

"I was just resting my eyes," she whines and frowns at him.

"No excuses, you only have to stay awake for a little longer," he says encouragingly.

"Ugh," she groans and rolls her eyes, slumping into the couch. "Can we at least find something else to do besides playing this game again?" she asks, pointing at the Clue board on the coffee table. "Surely you can think of a better way to keep a girl awake all night." Oliver raises an eyebrow at her and smirks slightly and Felicity feels her cheeks flush. She can't even blame that on the concussion. Oliver considers a moment and tilts his head when he notices something behind her.

"Is that any good?" he asks, pointing at the poster for The Adventures of Robin Hood hanging above her mantle.

"Wait, seriously?" she says incredulously. "How have you never seen it?" Oliver just shrugs helplessly in response. "We have to fix that right now," she says, standing to go look for her copy.

The movie is just about over when Felicity notices the clock and realizes she can finally go to sleep. She turns excitedly toward Oliver and finds him fast asleep, his mouth hanging open as his head rests on the back on the couch.

"Oh, I'm never letting him live this one down," she mutters to herself.


	9. Bodyguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "Maybe an Olicity AU where Oliver is Felicity´s bodyguard?"

John Diggle gave Oliver one rule when he hired him: no fraternizing with the clients. He had never been tempted to break that rule in the 5 years of his employment (outside of a few advances from lonely society wives), but for some reason, he can't seem to help getting friendly with Felicity Smoak, CEO and head creative genius of Smoak Tech.

She's not the first beautiful woman he's protected, but he's never had a client who was so determined to be his friend. Most of them politely ignore him, letting him melt into the background like he's supposed to. She, however, is always addressing him. But never as "Mr. Queen" like clients usually do. She dismissed that as too formal from the beginning. It's always, "Good night, Oliver," or "Oliver, what are your feelings on dumplings for lunch?" or even the too-familiar, "So, tell me about yourself, Oliver." He's gotten personal questions before sure, but most people listen politely and then forget immediately—blatant attempts not to seem like just a rich asshole. She actually seems to care, chatting with him whenever she wants to take a break from her work.

Still, he refuses to call her by her first name, despite how many times she asks him—which is every damn day. Every morning he picks her up and she greets him with a bright, "Good morning, Oliver," to which he always responds, "Good morning, Ms. Smoak." And then she'll sigh and look at him over the top of her glasses and say, "you know I wish you'd stop that." And he'll smirk and reply with a simple, "yes, ma'am," because he knows that irks her even more.

They play this little name game for three whole months until one day, she doesn't just roll her eyes and get in the car after.

"Are you really going to keep up this 'Ms. Smoak' thing forever?" she asks, sounding resigned.

"It's part of the job," he replies formally, squaring his shoulders.

"Listen, Oliver, I understand that, but please," she says, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm, surprising him. "I know you're supposed to be all formal and stoic, but I'd feel better if you and I could just pretend we're two buddies hanging out all day. It's easier for me to forget my life might be in danger that way." She smiles up at him–expression sweet and warm–and he can't resist.

"OK, Felicity," he says softly, satisfaction spreading through him at the sound of it. She gives him a big, dazzling grin and squeezes his arm.

"There," she says happily. "Was that so hard?" she asks and then turns away to climb into the car.

Oliver frowns after, because no, it was almost too easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last drabble for a bit (she said without much conviction), so leave a review or two on them if you don't mind. They're greatly appreciated.


	10. Immortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: Immortal Felicity (fluffy, angsty, take your pick).

It's better this way. 

Oliver has been through enough in his short life without the prospect of finally deciding to be with her only to find out he'll grow old and die while she watches, forever young, impossible to kill.

She knows she could ease his mind with one simple confession, tell him that staying away from her for her protection is pointless because she doesn't have to fear death in the first place. But she refrains nonetheless. Not because she doesn't trust him to keep her secret—she knows very well he's capable of that.

Felicity has had many lovers in her years on earth, but none so damaged or frightened as Oliver Queen and she can't help but think that perhaps he deserves a less complicated love. Normalcy might be healthier..

So, she'll wait and watch because it isn't as if she doesn't have the time. She won't interfere as he tries to figure out what he wants and then if he arrives back at her, they'll go from there. She hopes he does.


	11. Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: someone on team Arrow fail!Bakes muffins or cookies or something, while the rest of the team pretends to like them so their feelings aren't hurt

"Who brought the cookies?" Oliver asks, picking one up off the tray and biting into it.

Or at least he tries to. His teeth come down on hard on what he now assumes is a small rock shaped like a cookie and he feel his jaw creak with the effort. His eyes widen and he pulls the remainder of the cookie from his mouth and runs his tongue over his front teeth, making sure they haven't chipped.

"I did," Diggle says proudly. "I've been trying to handle some of the cooking with Lyla and I made too many so she told me to bring the rest here."

"Great," Oliver says, swallowing down the chunk of cookie in his mouth and hoping it doesn't kill him. Diggle smiles and turns back to training Roy and Oliver takes the chance to stuff the "cookie" in his pocket for discreet disposal later. Felicity walks up to him, giving him a sympathetic look.

"What is wrong with these?" Oliver asks lowly,

"I don't know, but I may never eat a cookie again," she says, sounding traumatized. "Roy won't even touch them and you know he never turns down free food."

"How is Lyla surviving?"

"I don't know, but we have to help her," Felicity says. "She sent these to us as a cry for help," she adds and points at the tray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got 2 more drabbles coming. I'll post one each morning just so people don't get overwhelmed.


	12. Buried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: Felicity Buried alive and talking to Oliver. Maybe Oliver having trouble/getting frustrated with the computers because they are taking too long

"Where is she?" Oliver yells through the comms as he races through the darkened cemetery.

"Keep running straight 500 feet and then take a sharp left," Diggle replies, voice strained.

"Oliver," Felicity starts, voice small from either fear or a lack of oxygen, he doesn't want to think which, "if I don't—"

"You're going to make it, Felicity," he cuts her off, straining to pick up speed. "I'll be there soon."

"I know," she says drowsily. "But my battery is almost out and in case you don't, I—" The line goes dead silent.

"Felicity! Felicity!" Oliver yells, panicking.

"I've lost the signal," Diggle says, "but you should be there now. Do you see any fresh graves?" Oliver looks around desperately and nearly falls to his knees at what he finds.

"There are two," he says.

"Pick one and start digging. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Oliver stands a moment–reading the headstones as if they can tell him which one Felicity is beneath–chooses the mound on the left and then begins shoveling the dirt out of the way like a man possessed.

She has to survive. She has to. He doesn't know what he'll do if she doesn't. He's been so stupid. He knew not starting a relationship with her wouldn't be enough to keep her safe. He should have cut her off from the Arrow too, never let her anywhere near him again. But he was too selfish for that. He couldn't live without her completely and now she's paying the price.

He makes bargains with whatever higher power might be listening as he digs, promising to never kill again, to break all ties with her, to do anything as long as she lives. His whole body is aching with the effort of digging when he finally feels the shovel scrape against something hard.

"Felicity," he yells, falling to his knees to clear the rest of the dirt away with his hands. There's no answer and he worries he's chosen the wrong grave or he's too late until he wrenches open the coffin's lid and finds her inside, unconscious.

"Felicity," he yells again, reaching down to pull her out and sobbing in relief when he finds her pulse weak but still there.

He climbs out of the grave and the act of hauling her onto the damp grass next to it jostles her awake.

"Oliver," she mutters when her eyes flutter open, one hand coming up to weakly grip the material of his shirt.

"I'm here," he says, brushing the hair out of her face and glancing around fruitlessly for her glasses.

"I was so scared," she says, starting to cry.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner," he says, a wave of hate running through him at the prospect of finding the bastard who did this.

"Thank you, thank you," she says, sitting up to wrap her arms around him. He moves to meet her but doesn't realize that he means to kiss her until their lips meet. He fears she'll move away for a moment until her hands come up to the side of his face to keep him from doing so.

Still, he pulls away anyway because she needs to catch her breath. But now that he's started, he can't stop, promises be damned. He kisses her hands, her nose, her cheeks–her tears salty on his lips–until he can't keep away from her lips any longer.


	13. Fender Bender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from placeofold on Tumblr: Team Arrow in a minor car accident, but Oliver being extra worried/ protective of Felicity given the van flipping incident in the finale

Oliver instinctively reaches out to her, needing to make sure Felicity is OK. But then he sees Ray Palmer sitting next to her in the row of seats behind the one he and Roy occupy–one hand gripping hers and the other on the side of her face–and remembers that's not really his right anymore.

"Are you alright?" Palmer asks, worried.

"I'm fine," she replies and exhales, her shoulders relaxing. "You?"

"Right as rain," he says with a smile and then leans toward her. Oliver turns around quickly and catches Diggle raising an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror.

"I'll go make sure the other driver is alright," he mutters, desperate to get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it with the daily drabbles for now. However, because of popular demand, there will be a part 2 of the Bodyguard drabble posted in a few days. Until then, I'd love you tons if you left a review or two on what's already been posted.


	14. Bodyguard 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand and because graellora on Tumblr has been following and commenting for a long time, I've written a sequel to that other Bodyguard drabble. I have no plans to do a multi-chap of this, but I got some ideas writing this one so we'll see. Enjoy and leave a comment after if it's not too much trouble. ;)

He's always so serious.

Felicity understands why. It's part of the whole imposing bodyguard thing. And much as she bristled at the idea of having a bodyguard in the first place, even she feels more comfortable with Oliver around now. His quiet, watchful intensity makes her feel secure and calm when it feels like her mind is forever racing.

Which is why, when he's driving her home one night after a long day and a touch of panic seeps into his tone as he talks on the phone, she knows something must be very wrong.

"Is she OK?" he asks, voice shaky. He waits and listens, his foot suddenly heavier on the gas pedal. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he says and hangs up.

"Everything alright?" she asks, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

"My sister was in a car accident," he replies, voice strained.

"Oh my God," Felicity says, hand flying to cover her mouth. "Is she alright?"

"She's conscious, but they think she might have a broken arm. They're going to do an x-ray and run some tests to make sure nothing else is wrong."

"Is she at Starling General?" she asks and he nods. "You should get off at the next exit or else you'll have to backtrack to get there."

"I'm taking you home first," he replies, turning briefly to give her a confused look.

"Oliver," she says, frowning at him. "Your injured sister trumps me getting home. I can catch a cab from the hospital."

"That's not safe," he counters.

"Well, then I'll call Mr. Diggle and ask him to send someone else to take me home." He opens his mouth to argue but she cuts him off. "This isn't up for discussion, Oliver. We're going to Starling General." She sees his hands tighten on the wheel and his jaw clench and she's not sure for a moment if he'll listen, but then, he sighs, flicks on the blinker and steers the car off the freeway.

Oliver is more agitated than she's ever seen him by the time they arrive at the hospital and she almost has to run to keep up with him as he strides toward the reception desk.

"What room is Thea Queen in?" he demands and the nurse looks momentarily taken aback.

"Are you—" she starts, but is interrupted by another voice.

"Ollie!" a girl yells and they turn to find a small brunette being wheeled into one of the nearby rooms on a stretcher.

"Thea," he sighs in relief.

"I'm fine," she assures when they reach the room. Oliver places a hand gently on the side of her face–careful to avoid the bandage on her forehead and she smiles at him a moment before turning to tilt her head at Felicity. "Who's that?" she asks, pointing and then cringing because she accidentally used the arm that's currently wrapped in a splint.

"Oh, um, hi, Felicity Smoak," she stutters, embarrassed at intruding. "Sorry, I'll just—"

"The infamous Ms. Smoak," Thea says with a satisfied smile. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Wish I could say the same," Felicity blurts out, heat flooding her cheeks immediately after. Oh to have been born with a brain-to-mouth filter. She opens her mouth again to speak but is stopped when Thea chuckles and shakes her head, the same way Oliver always does.

"Typical Ollie," she says affectionately and looks up at him with a smile. He narrows his eyes and frowns at her and seems just about to object when a doctor comes into the room.

"Ms. Queen," he says formally, "are these—"

"He's my brother and that's his...boss, I guess?" she says and looks to Oliver for confirmation but goes on before he can speak. "Don't worry about them. You can say whatever you need to. So how's my arm?" The doctor frowns a moment, looking between the two non-patients before answering.

"You have a fracture to your right ulna," he says, "so you'll have to wear a cast for a few weeks. It's a clean break though and other than that, everything seems fine. I'd still like to keep you overnight for observation until we get a look at your MRI, but I expect we can discharge you in the morning. The best thing for you now is rest," the doctor says firmly, giving Oliver a pointed look and then leaving the room.

"Ugh," Thea grumbles, slouching on the bed. "I was really hoping I'd at least get to go home."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Oliver asks and the tenderness in his voice surprises Felicity. She didn't know he was capable.

"No," Thea replies, "I'm exhausted anyway. But you better pick me up first thing in the morning. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." Oliver nods and stands to gently kiss her on the forehead.

"It was nice to meet you," Felicity says when they start to leave.

"You too," Thea replies and then turns to give Oliver a look Felicity doesn't understand that has him looking stern.

Once they're back in the car, Oliver calls Mr. Diggle to ask for the morning off and Felicity feels a little disappointed at the prospect of not seeing him tomorrow—which is weird and selfish and not something she can explain. He heaves a sigh of relief when he finds someone to take his place, but he still seems antsy and more brooding than usual.

"Your sister seems sweet," she says, hoping conversation will get him out of his own head.

"Don't let her fool you," he says and smirks at her in the mirror. "She's a hellion." Felicity chuckles, surprised when she realizes this is the first time he's made her laugh.

"Does your whole family call you 'Ollie?'" she asks, curious. "I can see why you don't use it for work. Not very imposing for a bodyguard."

"Childhood nickname," he replies with a half-smile. "Thea had a hard time saying the whole thing when she was little so my parents started using it too."

"Do they know Thea's alright, by the way?" she asks, alarmed at the idea that his parents might not know their daughter was in a car accident. "Did the hospital call them too?"

"Oh, um, that's not a," he mutters, grasping for words, "our parents are...they passed away."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Oliver. I didn't realize—"

"It's OK," he interrupts and smiles at her in the mirror.

"How did they...," she starts before stopping herself. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that," she adds in a hurry and then sinks into her seat a bit, prepared to quietly punish herself for the rest of the ride when he surprises her by answering her unfinished question.

"It was a few years ago," he says softly, sounding a little distant. "They were in a car accident," he says and she understands why he was so upset when he got the call about Thea. "Drunk driver hit them and they flipped into oncoming traffic. My father died instantly, but my mother...somehow...only broke a leg and got a concussion." He lapses into silence a moment and runs his hand over his face before going on. "That was how they found the cancer though," he says, voice cold. "The tumor was large, aggressive, they gave her six months at most."

"Oh my God," Felicity mutters, "that must have been awful for you both," she adds, unable to think of anything better.

"I was overseas at the time, but they discharged me so I could come home and take care of her and Thea. Our mother was a fighter, but watching her deteriorate so fast," he pauses, frowning at the memory, "Thea had a tough time staying focused. She was in high school at the time. Her grades slipped and then, after...well, she stopped showing up to class completelyl. John, Mr. Diggle, and I had been in the army together and he had given me this job so I couldn't watch her all day. There were drugs and she would disappear for days at a time. It got so bad that every time I got a phone call, I thought it would be the police telling me she had been hurt or arrested or... And then one time it was the hospital. Somebody had left her in front of the emergency room after she almost OD'd."

"That must have been so scary," she says raising a hand to place on his shoulder and then thinking better of it.

"Yeah," he agrees. "but thank God, that was what convinced her to get help. It took a long time, but she's in a much better place now. She got her GED, started college."

"That's amazing," Felicity says encouragingly. "You should be really proud."

"I am," he says with a small smile. "Hell, she took control of her life in a way I never could have at that age. My parents had to cut me off and push me into the military to get me under control."

Felicity opens her mouth to speak when Oliver slows the car to a stop and she suddenly realizes they've reached her house. He opens his door and walks around to open hers, offering his hand to help her out.

"Thanks," she says, pausing a moment she feels like she should say something else doesn't know what. "Thanks for bringing me home," she says awkwardly. "If you want to take the whole day off tomorrow to take care of Thea, don't worry about me. I'm sure Mr. Diggle can find a replacement. Or I can just drive myself around. I've almost forgotten what it's like."

Oliver huffs a laugh and then says a soft, "OK." She nods decisively and turns to go but stops when Oliver reaches out and grabs her arm.

"Felicity," he says, gently pulling her so she turns to look at him again. "Thank you."

"Of course," she says breathily, a little overwhelmed by the sincerity. She's never seen him with his guard down before and, from nowhere, she suddenly has the urge to ask him if he wants to come inside.

But the moment is broken before she can ask when he suddenly steps back, letting his hand fall to his side and straightens up, the bodyguard persona back in place.

"Goodnight, Ms. Smoak," he says, not using her first name for the first time in weeks.

"Goodnight, Oliver," she says and turns to go.


	15. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from otpprompts on Tumblr: "imagine your OTP on their first date. Person A asks person B to hold hands just like couples do, and when they do, they ended up blushing the whole time. Then person B wakes up, only to found that it was only a dream, and cries over it. What happens to person A is up to you."
> 
> Based on the first Olicity date in "The Calm"

It's not the first time Oliver has ever held Felicity's hand. They do it often actually, in danger or for for comfort or occasionally out of politeness. The feeling of his hand wrapped around hers–so small and cool and soft–is familiar.

But this feels different. This is the first time he's reached out simply because he wanted to.

The date had gone better than expected. After the initial awkwardness, things had been smoother, more like their usual way with each other. She had rambled, he had laughed, she had complimented him on the choice of restaurant and that had given him more pleasure than his plate of spaghetti, delicious as it was.

They were walking out after, Felicity telling him some ridiculous story about that time in high school when she was caught counting cards at the Luxor, when he just reached down and took her hand in his.

He worries that maybe it's the wrong thing to do as she pauses mid-sentence and stares down at their hands with a startled expression—until she intertwines their fingers. She looks up at him after, a soft smile on her lips, and he lifts their hands to gently press his lips to the back of her hand.

Her eyes are hooded as they follow their hands to where he rests them on his chest before they snap back up to look into his. They turn toward each other in the same moment and Oliver wonders if Felicity can feel his pulse spike. He knows hers has when he rests his free hand on the side of her face and pulls her in.

He wakes up just before their lips meet.

Oliver sits up on his cot in the Verdant basement and breaths deep as he tries to reconcile his dream with his memories of what really happened on his first date with Felicity. The explosion, her blood, their talk in the hospital later, but most of all that kiss—the one he can still taste.

He shuts his eyes and puts his head in his hands, focusing on taking deep breaths until the memory of how it felt to have her for those few moments doesn't feel so suffocating. But when he opens his eyes again, he sees that damn fern sitting in the corner–flourishing despite how often he neglects to water it–and all he can think of is her.

With a frustrated sigh, he throws off the blankets and heads off to the training area. Maybe he won't dream about her if he's exhausted. It's worked before.


	16. Diner 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, this chapter is going to change the content rating on this collection in a big way. Those of you with an objection to smut should leave now. Second, I've been working on this for awhile. I always wanted to do a follow-up to that 3rd chapter and this direction felt both surprising and logical. Plus I'm giving Felicity what the show has denied her for three seasons.
> 
> Just one last quick note on Oliver's characterization before we get down to business. Remember this is him without the island, the promiscuous man slut version. I think there's 2 ways you can go about him as a lover in that case: terrible or aficionado. I went with the latter here.

The place clears out by 10:30. So Felicity hops up onto a shelf behind the counter to rest her feet while they talk.

"So the girl who stood you up, you have any idea why she didn't show?" she asks.

"Um, yeah," Oliver mutters, averting his eyes and running a hand through his hair.

"You did something bad, didn't you?" she asks, tilting her head and giving him a look of admonishment.

"It definitely wasn't good," he admits, though that's not entirely true. He doesn't so much regret his time with Sara as the getting caught part. They had fun.

"You cheated, didn't you?" she guesses and he frowns in response. "So...? Spill." He stares at her a moment, knowing the truth will hurt his chances, but then decides to hell with it. The cheating probably turned her off anyway.

"I slept with her sister," he admits and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Wow," she says. "You seriously thought she would take you back after that?"

"Worth a shot," he says with a shrug.

"You're lucky all she did was stand you up. I would have pushed you into traffic. Or hacked into all of your electronics more likely. You get what I'm saying."

"I think Laurel prefers to delete my number and never speak to me again," he replies and saying it out loud, he really wonders how he could have fooled himself into thinking she would show up tonight.

"What about the sister?" Felicity asks, interrupting his thoughts. "Are you still gonna see her?"

"Well, I haven't talked to her," he admits. "But I don't want to date Sara."

"Sounds like you don't really want to date anyone," she mutters. He opens his mouth to object, but the ring of the bell on the door interrupts him.

"Hey, Kate," Felicity says and jumps off the counter.

"Hey, babe," a brunette in the same waitress uniform as Felicity says and Oliver feels disappointed that he somehow read this girl wrong. "Creepy guy come in yet?"

"A while ago," Felicity replies.

"Yes!" the girl exclaims and pumps her fist in the air. "You have class early, right?

"Yeah, I won't be back until the afternoon."

"OK. I'm gonna go put my stuff in the back and then you can go."

"Alright," she says with a quick nod. She turns to Oliver when they're alone again and smiles.

"Well, I really liked talking with you," she says with a nervous smile, setting down his check.

"Yeah, me too," Oliver replies, taking out his wallet. "Keep it," he says when he sets down a wad of cash much larger than his meager bill.

"Wow, thanks," she says. "And thanks for keeping me company tonight. Gets kinda boring in here sometimes. Burt's a good cook, but not much for conversation," she adds and points a thumb at the man scowling to himself in the kitchen. "I was actually surprised you didn't head off to the nearest club and find a girl to get your mind off your ex as soon as you realized she wasn't coming."

"Well, to be honest," he starts, ducking his head as he puts his wallet away to hide his embarrassment, "before I realized you were gay, I was sorta hoping you might be that girl."

"What?!" Felicity exclaims, fumbling as she drops the pen and notepad she uses to take orders.

"Yeah, I mean, usually I'm better at telling—"

"I'm not gay," she interrupts, pushing her glasses up her nose as she straightens up again.

"Really?" Oliver asks, his interest coming back full force. "You and that girl aren't...?"

"Kate?" Felicity says incredulously. "No. No, no, no. She's my roommate. Though you're not the first person to make that mistake," she adds, staring off into space a moment before refocusing on him a moment later. "Wait a second," she says, "you were making a pass at me even though you literally just told me your last girlfriend broke up with you because you slept with her sister?"

Oliver gives his most charming shrug in response.

"Wow, that is...that is bold," she says and he's pretty sure there's at least a hint of admiration underneath the censure.

"So does that mean you aren't interested?" he asks.

She laughs and gives him a look, but before she can respond, her friend comes back.

"Alright, Smoaky, you're free," she says and then pauses when she sees she's interrupted them.

Felicity glances between them and then considers Oliver a moment before holding up a hand and saying, "wait here."

"OK," he agrees, smiling as he watches her go. She smiles back at him a moment before turning and sharing one of those wide-eyed, pointed looks with the brunette that he's seen women do when they want to say a whole bunch of things without actually speaking.

The Kate girl turns to look at him once Felicity is out of the room, tilting her head and eyeing him.

"You're Oliver Queen," she says as she walks behind the counter.

"In the flesh," he replies and spreads his arms.

"Mmm," she hums, looking him up and down. "Felicity said you came in here sometimes, but I didn't really think you'd slum it just for good pie."

"People make a lot of bad assumptions about me," he says with a shrug.

"Right. Like that your haircut looks better in real life than in photos."

"What's wrong with my hair?" he asks defensively.

"It just doesn't fit you," she replies. "It's nothing personal. At least you've got other things going on. Not every guy can pull off long hair."

"I'll keep that in mind," he says with a frown, though he won't really. What does this chick know anyway?

"Ready?" Felicity asks, returning from the back.

"Yeah," Oliver replies, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.

"Have a good night," she says to Kate with a wave.

"You too," she replies and unsubtly waggles her eyebrows. Felicity blushes and smiles shyly up at Oliver as he holds the door open for her. He follows her out and they walk down the steps together then pause on the sidewalk.

"So...did you drive here?" she asks.

"Took a cab," Oliver replies.

"Really? I thought you'd have some fancy sports car."

"My parents stopped buying me cars after I wrecked the second one," he admits. She gives him a look over the top of her glasses that he's seen many times on his mother and Laurel, but they usually don't smile when they wear it.

"Where's your car?" he asks with a smirk.

"I walked. Our apartment's not far from here," she explains and points down the street.

"You were planning to walk home alone in this neighborhood at this time of night?" he asks, shocked.

"I do it all the time," she says with a shrug.

"Now that is bold. Let me walk you home," he offers, holding out a hand for her to lead the way. She smiles, ducks her head and sets off.

They walk in silence for the first block or so. Felicity seems to look anywhere but at him as she fidgets with the straps of her purse while Oliver simply watches her, wondering why she's gone quiet when she's barely stopped talking for the last few hours.

"So—" he starts, only to have her interrupt him with a rushed, "so is this is just about sex?"

"Excuse me?" he asks, taken aback.

"This whole flirty-flirt act, talking with me four hours and walking me home—you're doing it because you're hoping to get laid, right?" He considers her a moment, trying to think of what he can say that won't sound awful.

"Well, I did really like talking to you over pie," he offers, which earns him a moue and an eye-roll.

"OK, fine, but it's really about sex, right?"

"Isn't everything?" he replies with a smile, hoping she finds it charming. She considers him a moment, her face scrunching, and then breathes a soft, "OK."

"What?" he asks, even more surprised.

"OK," she repeats more firmly. "Let's do it," she adds and then blushes before she takes a deep breath and starts again. "Listen, you're obviously not looking for a relationship and I just got out of one—though not as recently as you, of course. So why don't we have some mutually beneficial fun? Finals are coming up and I could use the stress relief. No strings, no feelings, just sex. Then we go back to our lives and maybe we act all weird around each other when you come into the diner from now on."

He turns to face her and steps in close, raising his arms to run his hands down her arms.

"Who says we have to be awkward after?" he asks, smirking down at her.

"Well," she starts, stepping closer and fiddling with the front of his jacket and she stares shyly at his chest, "I don't know. Maybe we won't mesh physically or you'll feel weird about coming into the diner with your girlfriend if you get her back or...hey, you've been tested recently right?" she asks, finally looking up into his eyes. "Because if the rumors are true about how much you get around, then sleeping with you might be a health risk."

"Ouch," he says, only half joking.

"Safety first," she replies and he can't help but laugh.

"Clean bill of health," he promises and raises a hand. "Scout's honor."

"As if they'd let you in," she quips and then her smile falters a bit. "So what do you think?" she asks.

Oliver doesn't answer. Instead, he closes the space between them, takes her chin in his hand and gently presses his lips to hers.

The kiss is soft and sweet and he likes the taste of her—he'd like more. He pulls back after a moment and finds her looking up at him through her eyelashes. Unconsciously, her tongue darts out to lick her lips and Oliver can't imagine how he could turn her down.

"How close are we to your place?" he asks, voice husky.

"Close," she says lowly. She wraps her hand around his and leads the way, soon turning to climb the stoop of a nice if slightly rundown older building.

She drops his hand to open the door and he presses against her back, gripping her hips in both hands. She pushes back into him as she pulls open the door and then escapes his grasp as she walks through it, smiling slyly back at him over her shoulder as she moves toward the central staircase. He returns the smile and quickly follows her inside. He intends to catch up to her, put his hands on her again, but when he reaches the stairs, she's just far enough ahead of him that he gets a perfect view of her ass and he thinks that perhaps patience is a virtue in this particular case.

Oliver does catch up, however, when they reach the top of the stairs, grabbing a handful of Felicity's ass and squeezing until she makes a small noise in the back of her throat. He loosens his grip, smoothes his hand over the curved flesh and feels himself getting hard at the prospect of touching her without fabric in the way. The thought becomes even more enticing when she stops at a door halfway down the hall and he presses against her. He ducks his head to kiss her neck, biting her skin. She hisses in a breath and he hears her slam a hand against the door a moment before pushing it open. He follows her in and kicks the door closed behind them, reluctantly letting her go so she can slip off her coat. He does the same and tosses his coat next to her things on a nearby table. He blinks rapidly as she turns on a hall light and finds her wringing her hands.

"Um, so, my bedroom is that way," she says, pointing down a hall, "but we don't have to go straight there if you wanna, like, have a few drinks in the living room. Though I guess we have to move into the bedroom at some point. Kate won't be home until morning, but she wouldn't appreciate it if we—"

He stops her from going on with a kiss. In Oliver's experience, talking is rarely the best way to get over awkwardness in these situations. Action is always the better solution. Felicity doesn't seem to mind, though, as her hands come to rest on the sides of his face, mirroring him.

Oliver starts walking them in the direction Felicity said her bedroom was in, but she's a bit short and he can't quite do that and kiss her in the way he wants at the same time. So, he drops his hands to her waist and picks her up, feeling pleased with himself when Felicity makes a sound of surprise before wrapping her legs around him. Women always love when he does that. He tries the first door on their left as he walks down the hall and starts to turn into it when she grabs his hand and pulls away from him.

"Bathroom," she says a little breathlessly. "It's the last door on the right," she adds and turns to point, pushing their hips closer in the process. He grunts and tightens his arm around her waist and she smirks down at him, looking even more pleased with herself as she brings both hands down onto his shoulders and uses them as leverage to grind even harder against him.

"Fuck," he mutters, his free hand flying to her waist to direct her to do it again. She bites her bottom lip and he wonders how she ever could have thought they wouldn't have fun together.

Oliver loosens his grip around her body until he's sure Felicity can hold herself up and then slides his hands to the front of her waitress uniform so he can start unbuttoning it. He can't believe she's wearing it. It's like something out of a movie—sky blue material with a white collar and buttons that go almost the full length of the dress. But he guesses it makes sense for that place. The outift has clearly been passed from waitress to waitress over the years if its frayed edges are any indication. Still, she makes it work for her, or maybe her legs would look that good in any dress.

He's undone as many buttons as he can reach by the time he walks them into her bedroom. He sets her down and kicks the door closed behind them, but instead of finishing the job, she reaches up and slips the sleeves down her shoulders one arm at a time and then wriggles until the material pools at her feet—her eyes locked on his the whole time. And while he wants to walk to her and touch her bare skin, it won't matter if he's not at least semi-naked too. So, he kicks off his shoes and then reaches back to pull off his shirt. When he can see her again, she's giving him that sort of slack-jawed, desirous look he's seen many times before. Oliver would be lying if he said that the reason he spends so much time in the gym cultivating that six-pack isn't because of how much he likes seeing that look.

"Wow," she says, shaking her head a bit as she refocuses on his face. "You're..." she adds and then just raises an eyebrow and shakes her head in admiration instead of finishing. Oliver is about to laugh when he's distracted by the way she reaches back and pulls the band out of her hair, letting it fall in loose waves around her shoulders.

"You too," he says and is so caught up in admiring her that he almost topples over while he's pulling off his socks.

"Thanks," she replies and then tries to hide that she's laughing at him by leaning over to place one hand on her bed to steady herself as she kicks off her shoes. Felicity manages to toe off one sock before Oliver reaches her, but he wraps his hands around her waist–the skin warm and soft–and picks her up before she can remove the other. She gasps in surprise but quickly wraps her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. He smooths his hand down her leg until he reaches the material of her sock and then slides it off her foot, twirling it a second before flinging it across the room. She's still giggling about it when she leans forward and presses her lips to his again and he's smiling as he lays her down on the bed.

Oliver has always enjoyed the intimacy of the first skin-on-skin contact, the soft, supple warmth of a woman's skin pressed against his, but he doesn't get quite as much as he'd like as he settles himself on top of Felicity because she's still wearing her bra. So, he slides his hands up her back, enjoying the way she grinds their hips together as she arches her back, and unhooks her bra. He pushes up onto his knees and brings his hands around her body, sliding them under the loose fabric of her bra and grazing the edges of both nipples with his thumbs. She bites her bottom lip and leans up slightly, wanting more, and Oliver files that information away.

He likes to take his time with the women he fucks, explore them, find out who they are through their bodies and what they like. So, after he helps her pull off her bra, he cups both breasts in his hands, kneading them as he leans down to kiss her again and feeling pleased with himself at the way she sighs when he adds extra pressure on her nipples. He releases her immediately though, sliding his hands up her arms to interlace their fingers and keep them pressed to the mattress when his lips leave hers to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck and chest. She whimpers when he takes one nipple into his mouth and, a little later, he feels her nails dig into the back of his hands when he lightly bites it. He pulls back and blows softly on the damp skin, watching it pucker and making her squirm underneath him and then moves to the other side to repeat the process. He lets go of her hands after, dragging them down her arms again so they can pick up where his mouth left off as he kisses lower, taking special care to linger at her stomach when he realizes how ticklish she is.

Oliver lets go of her breasts, giving each nipple one last pinch before he does so that Felicity's hips buck slightly just as his mouth reaches the top hem of her panties—a grey, cotton, practical number. She probably wouldn't have worn if they'd met in a club or a bar like most of the women he sleeps with who aren't named Lance. The sudden thought of the sisters is unwelcome at this particular moment considering this is exactly the type of behavior that lost him Laurel in the first place. But he doesn't want to think about that right now.

So, he pushes off the bed and drops to his knees at its foot. Felicity lets out a startled yelp as he grabs her by the hips and drags her to the edge then moans softly as he presses his mouth to her inner thigh, sucking the flesh between his teeth before letting go and dragging his tongue across her skin as he moves up. His scruff scrapes against her and she gasps softly. Interesting. Oliver usually likes to be clean-shaven, but he's been too busy trying to convince Laurel to take him back the last few days to devote too much time to his appearance. He doesn't like that thought either and looks up to remind himself who he isn't with.

He finds Felicity staring down at him over her breasts in clear anticipation of what he'll do next. Now that brings him back to the moment. He keeps eye contact as he pushes back and then hooks the fingers of both hands under the fabric of her panties at her hips, sliding them off and tossing them away. He looks down at her, finally naked, and is surprised to notice that she's not fully shaved either.

"Sorry," Felicity says, drawing his attention to her face as she squirms a bit. "I haven't been with anybody lately so I—" She's interrupted when Oliver roughly throws her legs over his shoulder, slips his tongue inside her and runs it from bottom to top, pausing a moment to flick her clit. He pulls away and smirks at the way she's staring down at him.

"I like the way you taste," he says, mostly because it's true, but partly because he doesn't want her to feel self-conscious. Oliver's never really cared what women do or don't decide to do in terms of grooming. It doesn't really change the experience much, just tells him more about each woman.

He presses his lips to the soft skin of Felicity's inner thighs and snakes his hands up her sides to find her breasts, rubbing her nipples as he moves his mouth back to where she wants, at least, close to it. He gently runs his tongue up the creases of her thighs and places kisses on her outer lips, letting his tongue barely slip inside her to taste the building wetness. Her fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on.

"Oliver," Felicity begs, voice breathy, and he barely has time to feel pleased with himself before another unwanted thought invades his mind. Nobody calls him that. He's been Ollie as long as he can remember. Laurel only ever calls him by his full name when she's angry at him. He imagines what he's doing right now would probably make her even angrier than she already is. Damn it, why can't he just enjoy himself for a night?

Frustrated, Oliver seeks out Felicity's clit with his tongue, locking his lips around it and sucking it hard into his mouth. Her reaction is immediate and while the way she gasps, arches her back and fists both hands in the sheets makes Oliver wish he'd taken off his pants before he started, he regrets rushing. She's clearly more sensitive than he expected and now he's messed up the slow build he likes.

He recommits himself to taking his time, sliding his tongue down to circle her opening and dipping his tongue in, fucking her with it before he moves back up to gently circle her clit. She starts to tremble beneath him and her breathing gets heavier so he moves back down, not ready to make her come yet. When he repeats the process, he tries flicking her clit instead and the reaction isn't as strong. She whines when he retreats again and he takes a moment to smile to himself. The next time he returns his mouth to her clit, he circles it with his tongue and then flicks it instead when it seems she's getting too close before retreating entirely.

He keeps that pattern going–advance, retreat, advance, retreat–until he's pretty she can't take much more. The next time he pulls away from her clit, Oliver release one of her breasts too and slides his hand down her body. Instead of using his tongue this time, he uses his fingers, pushing two inside her. Her back arches off the bed and she moans. He starts to move them in and out of her, matching his pace to her breathing as it grows quicker. He leans forward again and circles her clit with his tongue, feeling her flutter around his fingers as he does.

"Please," Felicity begs, barely able to gasp the word between breaths. And Oliver complies. He sucks her clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue against it at the same pace as he curls his fingers inside her. She soon cries out in the most maddeningly wonderful way and Oliver has to push up higher onto his knees so he can keep going as she arches up off the bed, extending her orgasm as long as possible.

He pulls away after she starts to come down, but only long enough to stand and take off his pants before he's moving her up the bed and spreading her legs so he can lie between them. She doesn't hesitate to kiss him as he leans down and he slips his tongue inside her mouth just as she slips her hand between them and takes hold of his cock. He grunts and shuts his eyes, focusing on how good it feels as she strokes him too slow to do anything but tease. When Oliver opens his eyes, he finds Felicity smirking up at him with full knowledge of what she's doing. He leans down and kisses her hard and doesn't stop until he leaves her breathless. He trails his lips down her chin to her neck and then up again to nibble lightly on her ear lobe.

"How do you want it?" he whispers.

"Can I get on top?" she asks, almost bashfully, which Oliver finds sort of cute considering what her hand is doing.

He wraps his arms around her and rolls them over so quickly that Felicity lets out a startled, "oh!" when she lands on top of him. He smirks up at her and she smirks back before she sits back on her heels and wraps her fingers around his cock again. She starts to stroke him and he's wondering why she's still smirking at him until she leans down and drags her tongue from base to tip. His head falls back onto the pillows as he sighs.

Now it's his turn to fist his hands in the sheets. He closes his eyes as she swirls her tongue around his tip before taking him into her mouth. He's just thinking how good it feels when she pulls away, but he only has a moment to feel disappointed before she moves her mouth to his balls and strokes him with her hand again, picking up the pace. She keeps that pace going when she starts to suck him again, her hand moving to massage his balls. It feels amazing, but Oliver's not sure he can take much more. He wouldn't mind finding out if she'd let him come in her mouth, but that's not the relief he's looking for tonight. He wants to fuck.

"Felicity," he groans, trying and failing to stop his hips from rocking with her movements. She takes him in as far as she can and stays there and just as he's reaching to pull her away, she looks up at him through her eyelashes and does it herself. He places his hand on her chin and runs his thumb over the mischievous, sexy smile on her lips. She crawls up the bed and leans over him to reach into the bedside table and Oliver takes the opportunity lean up on his elbows and take a nipple into his mouth, hearing her gasp before she sits back deliciously onto his cock. He feels a pang of disappointment when he hears he familiar tear of a condom wrapper. Oliver prefers to pull out, but he supposes it's probably a good idea. The last thing he needs when he's trying to get his girlfriend back is to make a mistake with some diner waitress.

Any disappointment he feels is quickly forgotten, though, when Felicity sits up on her knees, firmly grips his cock in her hand and locks eyes with him as she rolls the condom on. She repositions herself over him and Oliver grabs her hips as she slides down onto him, groaning at the feel of it. She bites her lip as she comes to rest on his lap, pausing a moment to get used to his size.

Felicity starts slow, rocking herself back and forth. His fingers dig into her hips as she moves as Oliver struggles not to turn her over and pound into her. She braces herself with her hands on his stomach and pushes up slow before sliding back down. She does it again and again and again, faster each time, until her breaths are coming out in high moans and he's panting. But just as Oliver thinks he might come, she stops and starts rocking back and forth at that achingly slow pace again. He pushes up onto his knees a bit to try to thrust into her, but she pushes off him a bit, placing a hand on his chest and giving him a look he wouldn't dare disobey.

When she starts to ride him again, the strokes are shallow, teasing. Considering how terrible this night started, Oliver is pretty pleased with how things have turned out. He never would have guessed the cute little diner waitress would be such a fun lay. He watches her moving above him–bottom lip trapped between her lip as she moves–and he decides he'd like to be biting that lip instead. He reaches up, wraps her hand behind the back of her neck and pulls her down, kissing her roughly. She moans into his mouth as she moves her hips faster and Oliver grips her ass, urging her on.

He tries to resist taking control as long as he can, but the next time Oliver bends his knees and thrusts hard into her, he gets a sharp cry of pleasure in return. Felicity pushes up onto her hands to meet his thrust next time and they both moan at the feeling. They move together, faster and faster, their movements becoming more erratic until she suddenly screams his name and her nails dig into his chest.

Oliver watches Felicity as she comes and God how he loves that. Making girls scream in pleasure, watching them lose control, feeling them come around him—that's why he has such a hard time staying faithful. He enjoys this moment too much.

He thrusts sharply into her a few more times and then comes too, groaning. They continue to rock against each other until their movements stop completely, collapsing onto the bed to catch their breaths. Still panting, Oliver takes her face in both hands and kisses her, soft but passionate. One of her hands comes up to grip his arm while she uses the other to push up off him. He lets go of her long enough to throw the condom in the nearby trash and then pulls her back to him, enjoying how soft and swollen her lips are now as they kiss.

She eventually pulls away and lays back on the pillows. He does the same and reaches out the hand laying between them to touch her again, his fingers tracing patterns on her stomach. She turns and smiles at him, looking sated and tired, before she sighs and looks back at the ceiling and he follow suit.

"The rumors are true," Felicity mutters to herself, so low he barely hears it.

"What?" Oliver asks, turning his head to look at her.

"Oh, um, nothing," she says, averting her eyes and looking bashful despite what they've just finished doing.

"No, you said something about rumors, what did you mean?" he insists, turning on his side and propping his head up on his hand.

She twists the top hem of the sheets in her hands, still not looking at him before she answers. "Uh, just, um, that I've heard rumors about how good you are in bed. Which you shouldn't really be that surprised by considering how much you get around. And–not to inflate your ego which doesn't need it–they're definitely true."

"Glad to hear," he says and reaches out to turn her toward him so he can kiss her. "So what exactly are these rumors?" he asks a moment later, genuinely interested. Felicity turns fully onto her side to stare at him and Oliver imagines that if she were still wearing her glasses, she would be giving him that look over the top of them.

"Come on," he says enticingly, but she only frowns at him more. "I'm sure I could find a way to make it worth your while," he says, his hand sliding down.

"As much fun as I'm sure that would be," she says, stopping his hand's progress, "I've got a class really early in the morning and I need to get to sleep stat or I'll be beyond the help of even coffee."

"Oh, OK," Oliver says, surprised and disappointed. Usually, he's the first to make an excuse to go.

She rolls away and sits up, making the absurd decision to make sure the sheets cover her as she finds the underwear he took off her and then pulls on an oversize shirt from the top of a nearby dresser. Oliver has never been one for modesty and stands up, blocking Felicity's way as she tries to leave the room. She gives him a startled look and he leans down and kisses her before she can say anything. Her hands come up to his stomach, the nails digging in slightly, before she pulls away to give him a slightly dazed look.

"I had fun," he says lowly, hoping he might convince her to have a little more, despite her early class.

"Me too," she says, blushing, and then steps back, dashing his hopes. "Well, good luck with your girlfriend situation," she says out of nowhere. "Maybe the two of you will be back together by the next time I see you in the diner again."

"Maybe," he agrees, though he doesn't believe it.

"You can find your way out, right? I want to jump in the shower and get ready for bed."

"Yeah," he agrees, feeling that same, unexpected disappointment again.

"Great," Felicity says with a smile and then scoots around him to open the door.

Oliver stares after her until she disappears into the bathroom down the hall and then heaves a sigh before starting to collect his clothes. He hears the shower turn on just as he finishes getting dressed and suddenly gets the strange urge to undress again and climb in there with her. He doesn't know why he's feeling so attached to this girl and decides getting distance between them is a good idea. There's an odd feeling gnawing at him as he descends the steps of her building, but before he can analyze what it is, his phone interrupts his thoughts. He takes it out of his pocket and frowns when he sees Tommy's face lit up on the screen. He considers not answering for a moment, but then realizes he'd prefer his friend to whatever he was thinking before. He hears the unmistakable sounds of a party as he brings the phone to his ear.

"So did she show?" Tommy yells, the last two words slurred by alcohol.

"No," Oliver grumbles.

"I told you!" he yells, before Oliver can elaborate. "Well, stop moping at that awful diner and come have fun."

"I don't know, man, I'm kind of tired—"

"Shut up!" Tommy yells. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. I'll text you the address," he adds and then hangs up.

Oliver frowns down at his phone in annoyance and notices the clock. It's not even 1 a.m. yet. The night is young and he would never end it this early. Besides, this newly minted day is already off to a pretty strong start. So why end it?

His phone buzzes with the promised address (with surprisingly few misspellings) and he considers it a moment before texting back "on my way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and leave some feedback if you have a second. I'll be posting 1 or 2 drabbles a day for the next few.


	17. Teasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this drabble prompt from an Anon on Tumblr: "Can the Drabble be smutty? If so, can you do a smoaking canarrow orgasm denial where Oliver and Sara are teasing felicity? Please?"
> 
> If you've read "Friendly Competition" or chapters 14, 25 or 26 of "Drabblicity,"then you'll see that Felicity as the partner with the least control isn't how I imagine that relationship would work. So this is my best attempt at following the prompt. I'd say this would be happening early in the relationship. Not too long after "Friendly Competition."

Felicity is in Heaven. Though Sara and Oliver don't know that. They think they're torturing her, both working to bring her close to orgasm only to pull away just as she's about to lose control. She won't deny that they're succeeding at that. What they don't understand though is why precisely she enjoys when they do this.

It's not just their hands or their mouths or even Oliver's cock that she gets off on, it's that they're doing this together. She's always liked making them compete over her and this is the best version of that. They're trying to see who's the better lover. They take turns trying to see who can please her most, who knows her body better—all to win her affection over the other.

But they've never understood that she loves them equally—precisely because they're so different. She likes that Sara is rougher, more willing to tease Oliver and take action when they're all in bed together. She likes that within the the context of this...thing amongst the three of them, this is the only place where Oliver is willing to cede control, to follow and watch. She never knew he could be so gentle, so romantic. They complement each other and she knows that each wouldn't be as enjoyable without the other.

She could, of course, tell them that, smooth the conflict between them and make things a little easier on herself. But why would she? She's having too much fun.


	18. Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from klarolineishot on Tumblr: "Felicity helps the ATOM like she does for the Arrow team. Oliver learns and gets jealous and possessive. 'But we're partners.' or 'Aren't we Team Arrow?'"
> 
> I'd like to note that I am a cruel bastard and that I have not read any spoilers about the coming episodes. I'm sure this isn't what's going to happen, but I kind of think Felicity should leave the team.

When Felicity leaves him standing in the alley, hating himself but unable to think of another course of action, Oliver thinks he just might be able to survive losing her. Maybe they won't be together like he imagined, like he needs, but at least he'll still see her. She's always been committed to the cause.

So, when she doesn't come to Verdant the next day, it feels like being kicked off a cliff all over again.

"She's not coming," Diggle explains, voice full of accusation. "She's helping Palmer now."

Oliver turns and leaves without another word and drives straight to Queen Consolidated. He knows it's not called that anymore, but he can't admit that to himself at this particular moment. He's not technically allowed in the building without an invitation anymore either, but he became rather good at sneaking in and out of his office during the time he was running the company and he gets onto the executive floor without detection.

He finds them standing at a table, heads together as they talk about the various mechanical parts strewn before them. They turn to each other excitedly and smile and Oliver suddenly remembers, quite vividly, the last time he saw them here together.

Felicity spots him out of the corner of her eye and turns to face him, her expression going cold and angry, and Oliver feels ashamed, insignificant. She turns back to Ray, rests her hand on his arm in that way Oliver knows so well and says something to placate him before she strides over.

"What do you want, Oliver?" she asks, no time for niceties.

"Why aren't you at Verdant?" he asks, trying to sound angry and feeling like a petulant child.

She sighs in annoyance and crosses her arms. "I thought I made it pretty clear how I feel about your decision to work with Malcolm Merlyn," she says. "I won't be a part of the team if he is."

"Felicity, I can't defeat—"

"I don't want to hear any excuses," she interrupts, holding out a hand and closing her eyes in frustration. "You've made your choice and I've made mine. I hope he can help you beat Ra's," she adds and turns away.

Oliver wants to run after her, to fall on his knees and beg her to stay, but all he can manage is to say, "But we're partners," though it sounds like "I love you."

She stops mid-step, shoulders tensing as if he's struck her. He sees Palmer through the glass, looking concerned as he looks at her face, taking a step toward her before she stops him with an infinitesimal shake of her head.

She exhales, her body relaxing as she does. "Not anymore," she says without turning around and then walks away.


	19. Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from graellora on Tumblr: "Olicity: 'You are THE woman I love.'"
> 
> This would be set long in the future, after they get together and after Oliver finds out he's got a kid out there.

"How was the train ride?" Felicity asks, not looking up from where she's preparing the ingredients for dinner.

"Long and crowded," Oliver says with a sigh and then sits in the bar stools on the opposite side of the kitchen island. He loves watching her cook, or just watching her really. He hates being away from her, even for the smallest amounts of time. The fact that now it's only to see his son in Central City is the only thing that makes it bearable. "Don't ever tell Barry this, but I wish I could travel the way he does."

"Ugh, of course not," she says with a laugh. "We'd never hear the end of it."

"How was your day?" he asks, leaning on his elbows. "I called to check in on things and Digg said you had to leave for a bit."

"Oh, yeah," she says, eyes darting to look up at him a moment before returning to her task. "Just a work thing. So how did Connor do in the game?" she says, almost too brightly, clearly trying to change the subject.

"He was great," Oliver gushes. "Just like me at that age. Total ball hog, confidence beyond his abilities—doesn't help that he somehow managed to score a goal."

"Really?" Felicity replies, smiling broadly, equally proud.

"Sandra and I went nuts. I think we frightened the other parents. He could barely keep playing he was so excited. I took the later train so we could take him out for celebratory ice cream after."

"That's great," she says, smiling as before, but this time it seems forced, practiced. She looks back down at the food she's preparing, her forehead creased, and Oliver tilts his head in concern.

"You OK?" he asks.

"I'm fine," she assures, not sounding at all reassuring.

"Felicity," he prods. She pauses a moment and then looks up at him, nervous and unsure.

"It's just..." she starts and then takes a moment to think before continuing. "Do you ever wish your mother hadn't did what she did?"

Oliver crosses his arms in front of him, surprised she would bring this up, and then answers. "Of course I do, but I understand why she did it even if it was wrong. I can't change the past and I won't hold a grudge against her."

"No, I know," Felicity says, sounding apologetic. "That's not what I meant. I just...wonder if you wouldn't rather live in Central City. At least you wouldn't have to commute."

"Yeah, sure, but they're not in the market for another vigilante, " he says, trying to lighten the mood. "Our lives are here."

"Well, maybe yours should be there," she says lowly.

He pauses a moment, trying to process her words. "What are you trying to say?" he asks, standing and moving toward her around the island.

She sighs in frustration and brings her hand to her temple. "I don't know!" she exclaims, turning away from him. "It's just that you love Connor so much and you and Sandra never really got a chance to see if you could work. And sometimes I worry that I'm the thing keeping you from having the family you want." She turns to look at him then and Oliver is speechless. She swallows hard, tears beginning to well up in her eyes before she goes on. "Because I would understand, you know? You and I got together before you knew about Connor. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to try to be with Sandra for him."

"I don't want that," he says, unable to understand how she could think he would.

"Are you sure?" she asks, gaze dropping to her feet. Oliver approaches her slowly, takes her face in his hands and makes her look at him.

"Felicity, I care about Sandra," the starts. "She is the mother of my child, but you are the woman I love," he says softly, with as much sincerity as he can muster. "I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am to have Connor in my life, but I am equally grateful to have you. After everything we've been through, I couldn't imagine spending my life with any other woman but you. I love you."

She stares into his eyes a moment and then wraps her arms tightly around him, burying her face in his chest.

"I love you too," she says. "So much." Oliver smiles and rests his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes, unable to imagine how he could be any happier with his life. But then Felicity proves him wrong as she says, soft and small in a way that's so at odds with the meaning of her words, "I'm pregnant."


	20. Lazarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from fandom-queen-supreme on Tumblr: "Winter Soldier AU Olicity"
> 
> I cheated a bit here. Let's pretend that the AU is that Oliver gets revived in the Lazarus Pit by Ra's and, as comic book lore dictates, goes a little nutty after. Also, Felicity isn't a superhuman. Everything else pretty much applies.

Felicity would know that physique anywhere. She's seen it in all sorts of clothes–suits, leather vigilante costumes, casual wear, no shirt–but she doesn't believe its Oliver under that League get-up, holding a sword to Diggle's throat, until she sees him pull of the mask.

She experiences a million emotions in a matter of seconds. Joy that he's alive, confusion at how that could be true and finally terror when she notices the hard look on his face, void of recognition or kindness.

"Oliver?" she sobs, desperate and terrified. His eyes narrow, a momentary look of confusion flashing across his features before that murderous glare returns.

"Who's Oliver?" he asks. Felicity screams and she's thankful for the blow to the back of her head that knocks her unconscious.


	21. Campaign Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from an anon on Tumblr: "Olicity Prompt: Presidential candidate Felicity Smoak falls for her bodyguard and her election campaign manager tries to keep them apart. :)"
> 
> I want to make it very clear before we start that Laurel is not a villain in this. That's not my bag. But politics these days is all about image and a single, female presidential candidate having an affair with a bodyguard would be a potential media nightmare for a campaign manager.

Laurel knows what's happening even before Felicity does. She's too good at her job not to. But she's also known her friend long enough to read the signs.

It starts with him. When tall, handsome, Secret Service agent Oliver Queen first appears, he's stoic and focused on the job—a model of detached efficiency. But as she so often does–what Laurel has always considered the source of her power as a politician–Felicity wears him down. She asks him about his life, greets him with that big sunny smile every morning, refuses to forget he's there like she's supposed to and soon, Laurel begins to notice that the way he looks at her doesn't seem so detached anymore.

She digs into his past immediately. The listless, slightly troubled childhood, the exemplary military record, his reputation amongst his colleagues for being a bit of a man about town. That last part gives her comfort (Felicity has never been one for flings), but then she discovers that his philandering stopped sometime after they won Ohio and she's more worried than ever.

She hopes Felicity will be too focused on the prize to notice, but then she realizes that the way Felicity looks at him is starting to change too. There's a softness, a dependency to it that wasn't there before—she looks to him for a nod of encouragement before a big speech or grips his arm a little too tightly as a crowd gets rowdy. Still, she's not quite sure it's romantic until the assassination attempt.

It's chaos in the first few moments after the sound of gunshots shatters the silence in the room and she searches frantically until she sees a flash of familiar blonde near the door before Queen whisks her behind a door to safety. Laurel follows quickly, pushing her way through frightened, confused spectators and ravenous journalists until she follows them through. Oliver takes a threatening step toward her before he realizes who it is and then turns back to Felicity, who's leaning against the wall looking dazed and terrified. Oliver takes her face in his hands and leans down to catch her eye.

"Ms. Smoak," he says softly, his fear barely controlled, "are you hurt?"

"I'm alright, I'm alright," she breathes, voice shaky, and then reaches up a hand to encircle his wrist.

The door bangs open again as a photographer tries to make it into the room and Laurel pushes him back, just able to close the door again as the other bodyguards haul him away.

"Get her out of here!" she shouts and Oliver grabs Felicity's arm, but she doesn't move, her face suddenly determined again.

"Shouldn't I say something?" she asks, "Reassure everyone? Did anybody get hurt?"

"We'll release a statement," Laurel replies, "and I'll find out what I can. But right now you need to get out of here."

"She's right," Oliver agrees. "It's not safe," he says firmly and then drags Felicity away despite her protests.

From there, it's a whirlwind of press releases and phone calls and meetings and by the time Laurel gets back to the hotel, she's exhausted. She goes to Felicity's room to brief her on the information they've learned about the shooter and talk about their next step. She uses the key Felicity gave her like she always does and then stops dead in the foyer when she finds Oliver is in the room. He and Felicity are standing not far from each other, faces flushed and breathing hard, and Laurel notices that Felicity's lipstick is smudged on his lips.

"I need a word in private with Miss Smoak," she says, trying to hold in her anger.

"Sure," Oliver replies, reaching up to run his hand over his mouth before he turns to look back at Felicity a moment. "I'll be right outside," he says softly and Felicity gives him a look that Laurel knows means she has a big problem on her hands. She watches Oliver go, giving him a cold look and then turns back to Felicity once the door shuts.

"So what did you—" Felicity starts before Laurel cuts her off.

"We'll get to that in a minute," Laurel says. "Right now, we need to talk about you and him."


	22. Bad Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we get to today's drabble, I just want to quickly address yesterday's. I have no plans to write another chapter of the Presidential fic. It's a potentially great story, but it involves more research and dedication than I'm willing to put into it right now. As always, someone could request it on Tumblr the next time I'm taking prompts, but until that happens, that's it. Anyway, let's get to the new stuff.
> 
> Based on the following prompt from an anon on Tumblr: "Prompt: Oliver and Felicity taking care of baby Sara at QC and all the employees being like omg is so in love with Felicity Smoak and she doesn't even realize it. POV of one of employees."
> 
> I kind of cheated on this one. I don't think Oliver will get QC back until he and Felicity are dating and vice versa, so I couldn't really think of a scenario for the future. Instead, I went back to the premiere when Oliver came to the hospital to meet baby Sara.

John hugs Oliver a moment and then steps back. He turns to look at him a moment later, to say something else, and then stops when he sees the look on his face.

He's staring at Felicity like he's never wanted anything more, like he's utterly heartbroken that he can't have it. But he could. He and Felicity could be happy together if he would just let them try. But John knows that won't happen now.

He's has watched Oliver make a lot of stupid decisions in the last two years, but he's about to make the worst of all by pushing Felicity away. He wishes for both their sakes that he could say something that would make Oliver change his mind, but he knows there's nothing he can do. This is just something Oliver will have to learn for himself. He hopes it doesn't ruin him.


	23. Preschool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from sentence-fragments on Tumblr: Okay, how about daddy!oliver versus the first day of preschool?
> 
> Because we all need some fluff right now.

Felicity has seen Oliver face a lot of challenges. The Undertaking, Slade, his mother's betrayals, his own death at the hand of Ra's al Ghul—but she's never seen him look as terrified as he does right now, watching their daughter walk into preschool.

When she broke down into hysterical sobs in the middle of packing their daughter's lunch this morning, she felt stupid and silly. It didn't help that Oliver seemed so calm as he tried to comfort her. But seeing him now, standing there looking like he wants nothing more than to run into that classroom after her, would make her laugh if she didn't feel so bad for him.

She looks down and sees he's doing that thing he does with his hand whenever he feels helpless, so she reaches out and takes it in hers. He jumps and looks almost startled to remember she's there.

"She'll be fine," she assures. He forces a smile, gives one last look into the classroom and then leads her away. They're silent as they walk–the other parents around them equally dejected–and end up just sitting in the car once they get back to it.

"Well, that sucked," Felicity says, trying to break the mood. Oliver chuckles and then reaches out to take her hand again, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"It's not like we didn't know this would happen eventually," she says, trying to sound upbeat.

"Yeah," he sighs, "but she's just growing up so fast."

"It feels like she was learning to walk just yesterday."

"Bringing her to the lair was so much easier before that," he says and Felicity laughs. "She was such a cute baby," he adds. "I miss that."

"Well...we could always have another," Felicity suggests, playful yet hopeful. He raises an eyebrow and contemplates her a moment before he lifts up her hand and lightly kisses the black of it.

"You have anything pressing to do at work today?" he asks, his smile both shy and mischievous.

"Nothing that can't wait a day," she replies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the last drabble for a bit. Would really appreciate if you guys could leave a review or two on the ones you've enjoyed. They're always encouraging.


	24. Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from thoughts-unrated-fc on Tumblr: "Imagine waking up with your wrists handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. Your favorite character walks in and lays on top of you, pressing and grinding against you while slipping a hand into your pants as they smirk sadistically."

Oliver wakes to the cold metal of handcuffs circling his wrists.

He searches around–groggy and confused–because the last thing he remembers is falling asleep in an exhausted tangle of limbs with Felicity, not being captured. He realizes that memory is right when his eyes finally focus and he finds himself in her room, alone.

“Felicity?” he calls out, moving to sit up only to realize that his feet are tied too—one to each of the bottom posts of the bed. He also notices that he’s completely naked and that at least fits with his memories.

He’s about to call out again, worried that Felicity’s missing and someone’s left him powerless when Felicity walks through the door wearing a whisper thin negligee and slowly twisting a riding crop in her hands.

“I was wondering how long you’d be asleep,” she says, so low and god damned sexy that Oliver wonders how hard he would have to pull to break the posts of the headboard. “I was starting to get bored,” she adds, slapping the crop sharply against her palm and sending a thrill down his spine.

“What’s going on” he asks, though his mind and his body are starting to catch on. She smiles and walks toward the bed and he pulls against his restraints despite himself.

“I thought we could try something new,” she replies, giving him a mischievous look up through her eyelashes.

Oliver smirks back. This is not the kind of torture he thought he might be in for when he first woke up in handcuffs. He expects he’ll enjoy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, gonna try to get back into the fic game starting this week. Should post one or two more by then end of it.


	25. Sexiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt from otpprompts on Tumblr: "Persons A and B have both been kicked out of their dorms by their roommates- who both are having sex, either separately or with each other- and have to stand awkwardly out in the hall with one another."

Oliver sees the tie hanging on the doorknob the second he steps off the elevator.

"Damn it," he says with a sigh.

This sucks. He only left that party and that very handsy blonde because if he doesn't study for his chemistry test tomorrow, he's flunking out of yet another school. His parents were pissed after the last one, this time, they'll probably cut him off. He can't really fault Tommy though. Usually he's the one putting the tie on the door and leaving him out in the cold.

He puts his head in his hands and then turns back toward the elevator. He takes a step forward, deciding that if he gets back to the party, he can probably salvage things with the blonde when he looks up and notices another blonde sitting down the hall.

She's leaning back against a door, typing away on a laptop. She's bobbing her head along to whatever music flows through the headphones covering her ears and her fuzzy-slippered feet move along to the same beat.

Oliver watches her a moment, amused by her obliviousness, and then she seems to notice him standing there.

"Whoa!" she says, jumping slightly and nearly knocking her laptop over.

"Sorry," he says and smiles, "didn't mean to scare you."

"It's OK," she replies and smiles back, momentarily knocking her glasses askew as she fumbles to remove her headphones. "That's what I get for going into the zone in a hallway."

"Why are you sitting out here?" he asks. He takes in her clothing–the sweatpants and loose tank top–and guesses she can't be far from her room.

"Sexiled," she says with a sigh and points a thumb back over her shoulder toward the door she's leaning on.

"Excuse me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"My roommate has a 'friend' over," she explains raising her eyebrows suggestively, "so I had to find somewhere else to study."

"Ah," he says with a nod and a short chuckle. "Me too," he adds and turns to point to the tie on his door.

"Mmm," she hums with a smile. "International symbol for 'Keep Out, Sex Inside.'"

"Right," he nods and smiles too. He walks toward her, idly wondering why this girl seem vaguely familiar when he notices the book laying on the ground next to her. "Are you studying for Anderson's chemistry class?" he asks hopefully.

She glances down to the book beside her and nods vigorously. "Yeah," she confirms, "i hear his finals are brutal."

"Yeah," he agrees, suddenly hopeful that his night might not be ruined. "Hey, do you think I could study with you?" he asks, not waiting to hear her answer before he moves to sit down next to her. "My roommate is holding my book hostage and I really need to pass this test."

"Oh, um, I guess," she mutters, looking startled as he settles on the ground next to her.

"I'm Oliver Queen, by the way," he says, because his name has a sort of power. He sticks out his hand and then gives her a megawatt smile because that's got a power of its own.

"Felicity Smoak," she replies and places her hand in his. She's about to say something else when a very specific kind of sound comes from the door behind her and they both turn toward it in surprise. When Oliver turns back to the girl, Felicity, her complexion has gone a deep shade of red and he can't help but huff a laugh.

"Maybe we should go to the study room downstairs," she suggests, clearly flustered.

Oliver nods and then keeps hold of her hand as he helps her off the floor.


	26. Mosquito Net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys can thank Ian Fleming’s 'The Man with the Golden Gun' for this. I'm still officially on break from fic writing, but this wouldn’t leave me alone. As always, comments are appreciated.

Oliver isn’t sure why he keeps working out. The Arrow is gone and he’s glad. Or maybe he isn’t. Or maybe deep down he knows that just because h's done doesn't mean his enemies are. Or maybe be just likes the way he can actually see Felicity’s brain tempoarily shut down every time he takes off his shirt.

In any case, he spends part of each day maintaining his physique. Ever since they settled into the beach house, that’s meant running, cross-training in the jungle near the beach and a swim in the cool waters of the Pacific to cool down. It’s actually very much like his Lian-yu regimen—which he tries not to think about.

He jogs home from the water–hoping to dry off a bit since he hates dragging a towel around–and forgoes the steps that lead up the porch by jumping up instead and landing on the weather-beaten wood with a decisive thump. He strips down to nothing and lays his swim trunks to dry over a nearby chair. It's not like anyone will see him, the total seclusion is precisely the reason they'd chosen this place.

"Felicity?" he calls out. He stands for a moment just inside the door, listening, and savors the coolness of being indoors. The house–with its thin screens and open plan–isn't much cooler than the humid air outside, but at least he's out of the sun's harsh glare. He sets off toward their bedroom hoping to find her there and stops dead the moment he opens the door.

He finds Felicity asleep on their bed, laying on her side and totally naked, a pillow behind her back keeping her from rolling over. Her hair is fanned across the pillow, slightly darker at the roots because of the sweat and the fact that she hasn't dyed it in awhile. The fingers of her left hand are tangled in its loose strands on top of the pillow, her right is draped across her stomach. The mosquito net covering the bed makes her look like something out of a dream and Oliver is torn between watching her sleep or waking her up to see the wide, beautiful smile she gives him whenever he returns.

She makes the decision for him when she sighs suddenly, shifting in her sleep. The fingers of her right hand spread across stomach and he notices the droplets of moisture that run along the center of her body. Usually, he likes to climb directly into the shower after a workout to clean up, but right now, he'd rather pull back the gauzy curtain and lick his way up that trail of sweat.

He pulls the mosquito net back slowly hoping not to wake her, but the moment he rests his knee on the bed she stirs and sees him and smiles.

"Oliver," she says huskily and reaches out to him, her legs spreading so that he can lie between them.

He sets both hands on either side of her and lowers himself onto her until their lips meet. She sighs as he finally comes to rest on top of her and then wraps her arms around his shoulders. She drags her nails through his hair and squeaks in surprise.

"Your hair is wet," she says sleepily, moving her hands to the base of his neck.

"I just came from the beach," he says and then moves to kiss her again, but is stopped by her gentle push against his shoulder.

"You climbed into bed covered in salt water?" she asks.

"I wanted to kiss you," he replies, because it's true and because he knows it'll get him out of trouble.

"Well, go shower first," she replies with a look that would be far more effective given over the top edge of her glasses.

"Only if you come with me," he says, running his hand down her side.

"I thought innuendo was my thing," she quips. He huffs a laugh and moves his hand back up to her chin to tip her head back. He drags his tongue over he heads of moisture on her neck (the taste is exactly as thrilling as he imagined it would be) and lightly bites her skin as he kisses her, smiling when she shivers beneath him. "Come on," he whispers against her skin.

She sighs and then throws her arms tightly around his shoulders, her legs wrapping deliciously around his waist.

"If you insist," she says.


	27. The Vigilante Who Loved Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by yet another Bond novel. Thank goodness I've only got short stories left. The quote is from Ian Fleming's The Spy Who Loved Me. There's been a lot of talk in the fandom in the last few months about when Felicity realized she was in love with Oliver and I thought this was a good way to explore when I think that happened. As always, feedback is appreciated.

_"But my days and my nights were so full of this man, I was so dependent on him for so much of the twenty-four hours, that it would have been almost inhuman not to have fallen into some sort of love with him."_

Felicity pauses in her reading, so struck by the aptness of the passage that she sets the book in her lap to think about it. She stares out at the sunlit beach in front of her and sees Oliver in the distance, shirtless and working out, doing one of the very things that slowly turned their acquaintance into love.

It had been a slow process for her, as if weight had slowly been added to one side of a scale–one unnoticeable ounce at a time–until one day it tipped and she suddenly realized she was already in love.

Her first inkling that the feelings between them might be more than camaraderie and mild lust (on her end) was that horrible time Helena left her tied up on the floor of her office. She'd been so scared, more for Oliver's safety than her own because someone was bound to find her eventually and then she'd have some awkward explaining to do. But then she'd heard him say her name–so worried and maybe even a little frightened–and then he'd been so gentle, so comforting, that she'd suddenly felt something more than appreciation and concern for him. Before she could analyze exactly what though, he'd run off again and left her confused and scared at more than just Helena.

The real turning point came not long after, on that day when Oliver put his hand gently on her shoulder and told her she could always talk to him about her day. She gazed into those sincere blue eyes and the knowledge came crashing down on her so quick and forcefully that she'd barely been able to whisper her thanks. She had been guarded with what she said to him after that (as much as she could be without a filter) and had managed to never really declare her love out loud until that horrible, wonderful night in Nanda Parbat. Before that, the closest she came was the night of the Undertaking, when she told him being part of Team Arrow meant she was with him until the end. And she hadn't known how true those words were.

Even now that the Arrow had ended, they were still together, letting those first, breathless days bleed into months of meandering, sunny bliss undisturbed by threats of death or any thoughts outside of each other. She should be incandescently happy–and she is–but she's noticed a mounting restlessness that seems to appear more and more quickly after they arrive at each new place.

"Hey, Oliver?" she calls out. He turns without breaking stride, runs toward her up the beach and skids to a full stop next to her chair–sand flying–and Felicity yelps and throws her hands up to protect herself from the spray. "You bastard," she says through a smile, playfully swiping at him. He easily dodges her swing and laughs as he drops to his knees next to her, bracing his hands on either side of her on the chair so his face within inches of hers.

"Hey," he pants, "what's up?" He gives her that wide untroubled smile Felicity sees so often now and yet she still takes a moment to marvel at how grateful she is to see it after everything they went through. She reaches both hands up and rests them on his shoulders, his bare skin hot and damp with sweat.

"Do you think we should move again?" she asks tentatively.

"Whatever you want," he says softly and then leans down to kiss her. And Felicity's glad he does, because it keeps her from wondering what could be missing from this life they've both wanted for so long for just a little while longer.


End file.
